


The Saltwater Princess

by seraph7



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Arranged Marriage, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraph7/pseuds/seraph7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Joffrey is caught in an attempt to harm Bran, the betrothal between the prince and Sansa is off. Robert suggests a most unlikely suitor for her hand: the young heir to the Iron Isles hoping to bind them in obligation. Now Sansa and Theon have to learn to care for each other and survive in the very different culture of the Iron Isles and all that entails.<br/>Things are made more complex by the arrival of Balon's exiled brother Euron Greyjoy back to the Iron Isles, who defies his brother's decree of exile. When he meets his nephew's young pretty wife and decides that he wants her for his own, history threatens to repeat itself. </p>
<p>Can the young couple stop him from driving a wedge between them, especially when Euron is prepared to go to any lengths to gain what he wants?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Marriage Treaty

**Author's Note:**

> This again is wildly AU.

“We cannot allow our daughter to marry Joffrey Baratheon, we simply can’t, not now we know what he’s like.” fretted Cat. She paced the entire length of the solar deep in thought. “Seven knows what would have happened if Jory and Theon hadn’t come in time to stop it and save Bran’s life.”  
Ned looked at his wife’s anxious face, sharing her concern. How could they gainsay Ned’s oldest friend? He was a king. He’d proposed the match between his son and their daughter himself - by royal decree. They were as good as pledged.  
“Nothing was official. Not yet-” Ned told her, trying hard to be practical. Personally he couldn’t help but think they’d had a lucky escape. Stannis had sent him tales of the boy’s budding cruelty and depravity, but it took seeing him at close quarters to determine just how bad he was. Joffrey and that mother of his were staying away from his family if it killed him. He couldn't wait until they left Winterfell and never darkened his door any more.  
“You know he’ll be angry. He’ll think we’re snubbing him. After all he came here all the way from King’s Landing. He brought his family with him. We should feel honoured to host his Grace-” Cat bit her lip, still fretting over breaking the agreement and potentially displeasing the King and his family.  
“You mustn’t fret, Cat. Whatever it is we’ll deal with it as we always have. We’ll do what’s best for our girl.”  
“We’ll have to tell him the truth and hope he is the man you think he is. He wouldn’t blame us for our concern. I mean - our poor son! He could have been seriously harmed, and who knows what else has been going on?”  
Despite their best effort to find out the truth, the witnesses were reluctant to come forward and openly accuse Joffrey. Ned could see his daughter waver, starting to mentally make excuses for him, starting to turn a blind eye to his cruelties. It wouldn’t do.  
“Will he not simply propose another match? Maybe to some lord less congenial- a Bolton, a Frey or worse?” Ned brooded on how things could be so much worse. It was small comfort, but they could be so much worse.  
“Anyone is better than him and those awful Lannisters. Ned, I don’t mind admitting to you that they scare me. Lysa told me such stories from King’s Landing as to make your hair curl.”  
“The lass will be disappointed.” Ned said with a heavy sigh. “Cersei filled her head with all these dreams-that she was to become a princess.”  
There was a determined gleam in Cat’s eyes.“Better disappointed than come to some harm.”

Ned was still considering the solution for his problem as he headed to the Godswood with his sword and his whetstone. He needed to think logically. Who would be the most suitable and advantageous match for his eldest daughter?  
He anticipated many offers for the fair girl’s hand, as soon as she became of age. If truth be told, Ned would prefer someone he knew, who would treat his girl right. Someone he already knew. Someone he could trust to treat her with love and respect. But who would be suitable?  
Of course I want the lass to be happy but we have to think as strategically as we can. She is fair enough to have any one she so desires and we’ve had some prosperous years of late. The dowry wouldn’t be a problem. The Starks were as good as any high-born as any in the Seven Kingdoms. We have options, but we will have to make a decision soon.  
Cat was determined that the match with Joffrey was over, and he didn’t blame her. If the young lad had not been Crown Prince of the Realm, he personally would have tanned his hide for what had happened to his son. It was only by the Grace of the Old Gods that Bran was not more seriously hurt and that he had survived the fall from the battlements with broken and shattered limbs. Cat tended to his every need, staying by his side until he recovered from his ordeal. He hadn’t wanted to push his son, but he’d had to ask him what had happened that fateful day. He didn’t like the ominous silence of the witnesses, not one bit.

 

“So you see, your Grace. It’s not that we are not aware of the great honour you did our family in proposing the marriage.” Ned started, wondering how he was going to break the news to the king in a tactful manner.  
Robert frowned, putting down his tankard. he smacked his lips in appreciation of the fine dark Northern ale.“So what’s the matter, Ned? Come on, you’re spitting out your words like a nervous Septon.”  
“I’m afraid we cannot accept your son’s suit for our daughter. In the circumstances.” Ned’s nervousness made him blunt. The group fell silent for a moment, stunned by his candid statement.  
“-and you agree with this statement, Lady Catelyn?” Robert turned to his wife.   
"It’s just that I can’t help but be worried for my daughter’s welfare.” Cat jumped in, backing Ned up.  
“Your girl’s welfare? You think this is that serious, Cat?” Robert asked. “You think Joff’d raise his hand to Sansa?”  
“If Joffrey thinks this is acceptable behaviour and the two aren’t even wed yet. Then what’s to say he won’t get even worse?” Ned added, backing up Cat. “Robert, frankly it worries me. Your Grace I hope you can understand where we are coming from. When we saw Bran injured… Joffrey even admitted to it, though he didn’t seem to think he had done anything wrong.”  
“You want me to speak to the lad? Set him straight? I’ve told her a thousand times- Cersei spoils the lad. He could have done with a good thrashing or ten, that would have set him right.”  
Ned wasn’t convinced that anything Robert said or did would have an effect on Joffrey. The damage had been done a long time ago.  
“What do we suggest we do, your Grace?” Cat asked.  
“She’s going to have to be married off. That’s the safest thing for the lass. If they’re wedded and bedded by the time that we return here then the deed is done, there’s nothing that can be done.” Ned said.  
Robert sighed, patting his copious belly. “Tis a shame. I would have been very happy to link our houses, but since you’re determined. I’ll nay hold it against yer for the love you bore me.”  
He couldn't help a sigh of relief. It had been an awkward situation, but Robert’s acceptance and understanding had made things a lot easier. At least their long friendship had counted for something when it mattered.  
“Thank you Sire, you have no idea how relieved you are that you understand our predicament.” Ned sighed, scarce hiding his relief.

Ned and Robert went walking the next day, still talking about the subject at hand.  
“Glad to get away from the place to be honest. Cersei was driving me mad with her constant whining. At least you were lucky in yer choice of wife. Mine would drive a septon to drink in a week, I swear it.”  
“Have you given any thought to my daughter’s match. How are we going to find someone at short notice to marry her before Joffrey and the Lannisters demand her hand?”  
“Actually, I have.”  
Ned stared at the king and blinked in surprise. He thought that he would have to remind his friend for the next six months and get referred to one of the Small Council. Be bound up in promises and red tape for the foreseeable future. “Aye, who have you come up with as an alternative, your Grace?”  
“He’s right here, under I wonder that you didn’t think of it yourself.”  
“Right here?” Now Ned didn’t know what he was talking of. His dark brows pulled into a frown.  
“The Greyjoy, kills several birds with one stone doesn’t it?” said Robert with alarming enthusiasm.  
Ned wasn’t sure that he had heard this right. “Theon?”  
“You haven't got any more Greyjoys hiding in the woodwork, have ye, Ned? Of course I mean Theon!”  
Ned thought he was trapped in some surreal dream where up became down for a moment. “My Lord, I-”  
“You’ve kept him for long enough and Balon has behaved himself since the Rebellion. It’s time we mended some bridges.”  
“Are you sure that this is wise?”  
“There’s no need to fret. We drew the kraken’s claws when we fought him on his own ground. We have his only son right here, his son and heir. Think Ned! We bind the Greyjoys by marriage and obligation and they give us no more trouble.”  
Ned was somewhat sceptical that this would work, but he could see that Robert was set on the idea. more than set. It would need a great deal of persuasion to get him to change his mind. "Don't fret, Ned. It's all going to turn out fine. You'll see-" If only Ned had Robert's optimism about the plan. He wasn't looking forward to telling Cat of the king's new plan. Not one bit.

Cat was troubled by the situation, there was no denying it. Marriage to Theon Greyjoy. Of all the families in the Seven Kingdoms for Robert to propose as an alternative for her daughter she wouldn’t have chosen him by any means.  
She could see the strategic strength in such a union though it was hardly illustrious. Balon had retreated to his his Isles after the rebellion and had troubled them no more. He’d left his youngest, his heir with them in good faith and though the money for his upbringing was somewhat erratic it did eventually arrive- as long as they didn’t think too closely about exactly how it had been acquired.  
She’d kept up an involved correspondence with Rodrik Harlaw on Theon’s progress and upbringing and had offered many times to allow visits from his mother who ever since had been in a bad way.  
Cat would have liked to meet her; reassure Lady Alannys that they would care for their son as if he was practically her own, but Rodrick had told her in confidence that she was delicate and the strain of the situation might prove too much for her. Cat felt pity for Lady Greyjoy, deprived of her child for so long. I couldn't imagine being in that situation myself. To lose Robb or Bran in such circumstances. There but for the grace of the Seven go I.  
Cat had never been to the Iron Isles. She knew only what she had been told about the Isles. Little more than a bunch of infertile rocks stranded in the middle of the ocean, home to a brutal hard people. How would her sweet biddable daughter fare in such an environment? Would she undergo hardship and privation? They barely had enough fertile land to feed themselves. Would Sansa be forced to live on charity?  
We must ensure that she is well-provided for. She is our little girl, and it pains me to think of her struggling and scratching out a living. I must speak to Ned. We must start making arrangements, she thought to herself with a flash of her usual resourcefulness. We can do this.  
Your father wants to see you, Sansa-” Septa Mordane told her as the girls entered the solar to carry on with their embroidery lesson under the watchful eye off their Septa. Arya lingered at the door, dragging her feet at the prospect of the unwanted lesson. She was going to nag her, but this needed to be dealt with first. Lord Eddard’s orders had been quite clear. "As soon as you see Lady Sansa, tell her to attend me in my office, please." He'd sounded terse and official so Septa Mordane took pains to obey.  
Sansa bit her lip in anxiety. What had she done?  
“Right away?”  
The Septa nodded, giving her favourite pupil a commiserating look. “You’d best go now and find out what he wants.”  
Arya smirked in the corner, enjoying not being the one in trouble for the moment. she wasn't able to get away with it for long, though.  
“I see you dawdling, Lady Arya. Don’t think that you’re going to get away that easily, my girl. You still have that corner to re-do. It took me hours to unpick it. How did you get it in such a snarl?”  
Arya scowled but Sansa was too preoccupied to rebuke her, taking her leave of them and heading to Ned's office.. _But I haven’t done anything. If this is about Joffrey and Bran, I told him everything I know. What could he want with me?_

Theon and Sansa looked at each other wondering why Lord Eddard had called them both to his solar. What had they done that they had to be talked to together? He wondered.  
Sansa was such a goody-two shoes. Never put a foot out of line, as far as her sister Arya complained to her brothers or that he could see. What could she have got up to, that she’d earned a reprimand from Lord Eddard?  
She looked ill-at ease standing outside with him, fidgeting with her hair and clothing as she waited to be called in.

Ned poked his head out of the door and noticed them both standing there waiting for his call to enter.  
“Would you both like to come in?” he looked solemn and stern as usual, not giving anything away. Theon could hear the rough loud tone of the King from inside the office and his curiosity was piqued even further. _Why would the king want to talk to me and Sansa? D'ye think this is about Joffrey and his exploits?_

They both gave each other a look but followed the lord into the solar.


	2. Chapter 2

“Father, what is it?” Sansa asked, her hands twisting in the folds of her skirts. "Septa Mordane said you wanted to see me right away."

“Sit down, both of you.” Lord Eddard sounded weary as he spoke to them. “King Robert has a proposal he’d like you to hear-”  
Sansa and Theon sat down opposite her father and the King, dutifully waiting for them to speak.

“We have been thinking for a long time about your prospective marriage, Sansa. You are a growing girl, and will soon be a woman.” Robert started, sounding a little pompous. "As a daughter of one of the great Houses, your marriage is important to us all."

Theon still thought of her a little girl, always prissy and put together, never a wrinkle or a hair out of place. Her and the Poole girl used to linger in the yard while he trained with the Stark lads, blushing and giggling like the silly girls that they were. In a couple of years she would be a looker, the evidence was there already.  
He had more than enough sense not to think any further on it. She was surrounded by two brothers who were friendly enough but would have his guts if he even thought of her in that way. It just wasn’t worth the aggravation and the hassle even going down that road, not when there were other girls available to slake his needs. None as pretty as her though.

“Sansa you are coming to the age where we have to seriously consider a match for you.” Ned sighed as he talked, backing Robert up. “It is unfortunate that Joffrey proved unsuitable. It would have been a great match but we had to consider your safety. I have talked to King Robert here, and he offered a solution. It was good of him to consider your welfare, even when it clashes with his son’s self-interest."

“What did he say, Father?” Sansa gave him a wary look. "Your Grace?"

“He suggested I marry you to Theon, to secure the Iron Isles.”

“He did what?” Theon felt his voice rise into an undignified squawk. He started at his lord, shocked by his statement. Whatever he had expected, Ned had just swept the feet from under him.  
Ned carried on, ignoring their equally shocked faces. Sansa’s face was drained pale. She clutched the arms of the chair, willing her hands not to tremble.

“I have to say, this was somewhat unexpected for me too. It was King Robert who proposed this idea to me."

"Is this your will, your Grace. You want me to marry Theon?" she asked Robert, her voice perfectly steady and polite even in her shock and distress.

"Aye, lass. It would be the best thing for you. If you're married and bedded by the time we return then the Lannisters can't do anything about it. Joffrey won't be able to have you if you're already wed, can he?"

She opened her mouth, actually struck dumb for once. Robert went on, pressing his advantage. "You could do something that no one else can. You with one union could bring peace to the region. Isn't that a noble thing to do? You'd be a heroine."

Ned doubted that when Sansa dreamt of being a heroine from a tale she had envisaged her fate turning out like this. Despite her best efforts at concealing her disappointment her face fell.

“I must approach your father with details before things are finalised but we think it might be the best solution for all involved.  
Perhaps we might be able to arrange a return to your homeland. You have been with us for many years.” Ned said, turning to Theon. “Perhaps this union can be the basis of a new peace treaty. A way to amend and build bridges-” "Yes you'll make a fine couple. A new era and a turn in the fortunes of House Greyjoy. You should both be pleased!" Robert announced, very pleased with himself for thwarting his wife's machinations.

 

Sansa threw herself onto the bed. She couldn’t believe what her father had just told her. She could have died of mortification. Her to marry Theon Greyjoy? To leave her home and all she knew to join him in the Iron Isles? She knew little about the place. Only the tales of the other men and Theon himself. It sounded like a grim forbidding place, a harsh uncompromising landscape, now to be her home.  
She had thought that when her father said he had made arrangements for her marriage that the king had spoken on his visit to Winterfell and made an offer on Joffrey’s behalf. She had not been mistaken, there was definite interest from the prince and Cersei had praised her beauty and been very kind. Father knew she wanted to make a good match, to marry a grand lord and make her family proud. She had been less keen when the incident with Bran had happened but she didn’t think that Father would change his mind and decide to give her to Theon instead.

 

Septa Mordane and Arya were already in her mother’s solar ready to work on their tapestries.

“So what did Father want?” Arya asked as soon as she saw her elder sister.

“Arya Stark, there’s no need to be so nosy! Your sister will tell you in her own time, if she’s going to tell you at all.” reproved Septa Mordane giving her charge a disapproving look.

Arya pouted and made a face behind the Septa's back.

Sansa sat down and bit her lip, willing herself to be strong and not cry at the thought of being married to Theon. “Father gave me a proposal of marriage. I can’t quite believe it."

" Oh Sansa, I can't believe you're going to be married! How lucky you are!" Jeyne's eyes shone with happiness and excitement for her dearest friend, envisaging the ceremony and new dresses and feasts. “Who is it? Where are you going? Dorne? Highgarden? The Twins?”

“Pyke.” Sansa's voice was a leaden undertone.

“What?” Arya and Jeyne spoke at the same time astounded by what she had revealed. Surely this was some kind of a jape. The King and Father couldn't have really given her to Theon instead. No wonder she looked like she was on the verge of tears!

“I’m going to Pyke. They’re marrying me to Theon Greyjoy. They’re sending us both to the Iron Isles.”

“Oh you poor girl-” Septa Mordane said, her voice full of sympathy.

"The match with Prince Joffrey is off officially. Father and the King want me married off as soon as possible. They have a plan to return Theon to his home with me as his bride." Sansa's voice was muffled from Septa Mordane's maternal hug.

Arya started to feel a little bit sorry for her if she was honest. Sansa had been so looking forward to marriage and even though she had been perfectly insufferable when she was engaged to Joffrey, this had to be a major come-down. "At least you won't be marrying Joffrey. That's something, isn't it? Don't tell me you actually liked him?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. I could have been a queen-" Sansa had to suppress a sob. She knew she was being childish and silly, that Joffrey had hurt Bran and easily could have killed him. That she was scared of marrying with his volatile temper and penchant for cruelty.

"You are really upset about this, aren't you?" Jeyne squeezed her hand, her large dark eyes wide with sympathy.

Septa Mordane decided to take charge, noticing Sansa's upset. "Arya, Jeyne leave me with Lady Sansa, please."

"Does that mean we're excused lessons?" Arya said slyly taking advantage of the situation. "We can go early?"

"Just this once." the Septa said in a severe tone, her thin mouth drawn into a line. "- but don't get the idea this is going to be a regular occurrence!"

Arya tried and failed to look suitably contrite even at the prospect of a free afternoon liberated from the tyranny of the needle and the harp. She scarpered away before the Septa could change her mind.

 

When Jon and Robb heard the news about Sansa and her new match -with Theon Greyjoy of all people - they couldn’t quite believe it. 

“What is father thinking? He can’t really want to admit him to the family?” Jon frowned as he sharpened his sword by the Godswood, Robb sat near him

“Theon’s not so bad, once you get to know him.” Robb said, trying to be reasonable even though he was as shocked as the rest of the family. “He’s still coming to terms with it himself. But it’s a great chance for him and his clan. He’d be a fool not to accept and at least he would be able to return home with honour and as the heir to the Iron Isles.”

Having been on the end of his sharp tongue more than once Jon begged to differ. He couldn’t see his ladylike gentle-bred sister living with the Ironborn with any harmony.

“Does he even want her? Because he’s never any sigh of interest before.”

“Well he wouldn’t, would he? But he would be a fool to say no, and it's the King's will by all accounts."

Jon was not convinced. As far as he was concerned, Theon Greyjoy was not remotely marriage material and not for his sister!

 

“There’s obviously something wrong, so come out with it and stop sulking, Snow.” Theon said, irritated by Jon’s sighing and glares. He was worse than a sulking maid sometimes, he swore. If he clucked his tongue at him one more time, he would cut it off at the root ans serve it to him for supper.

“The fact of the matter is I don’t think you deserve her!“ Jon burst out, as if he had been dying to unburden himself for some time. The words exploded out of him like water from a suddenly breached dam.

“Deserve who? What are you going on about?”

Jon was so wound up, he burst out with it, heedless of the reaction he might get. “Sansa. You don’t deserve my sister!”

_Well, don't hold back, Snow, say what you really think!_ thought Theon, irritated by his negativity. Annoyed by his assumption that he was going to mindlessly abuse his betrothed like some uneducated brute.

“You dare to speak to me like this. Do you have some kind of a death wish or something, Snow?”

Jon’s face reddened in anger. Theon felt a familiar sense of satisfaction at provoking Jon. It was far too easy like shooting trout in a barrel.

“I know what you’re like. Spending all your nights up at Winter town, tupping whores and getting dead drunk.”

“You’re not going to hold that against me? Just because I like to have a good time? There’s precious little else available to do here.” he mocked, enjoying getting under the skin of the other man. 

“You’re not cheating on my sister.” Jon's fist clenched by his side, his mouth set in sheer sternness. Theon wouldn't have been surprised if he had intended to swing for him soon.

Theon stopped mid-stride. “Who said that I was planning to?”

“I know you-” Jon scoffed.

Theon gave him a rather sharp smile calculated to wound. “So you keep saying.”

Jon's chin went up.“You deny what everyone knows. You’ve boasted enough times of Salt Wives and lovers. Sansa is young and innocent I won’t have you taking advantage and hurting her.”

“You think that I’m going to take Sansa as a salt-wife?” Theon let out a burst of inappropriate laughter at the thought.

Frankly he wouldn’t dare. Lord Eddard and the king had taken him aside and made it very clear to him the terms of his release back home the the Isles. If he were to take Sansa, she would be his true married wife in sight of law and custom or no deal. “They’ll be no salt-wives for you lad. You’ll be faithful to the girl, or Ned here and I will want to know the reason why.”  
“Yes, your Grace.” he said meekly, not wishing to test whether Robert Baratheon's meaty fist was as heavy as ever.

“I and my family take a great interest in the girl’s future. Just because she isn’t marrying my Joffrey doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to her. I’m settling some lands and a suitable dowry on the lass in addition to your father’s provision. You won’t go hungry in Pyke, I assure thee.”  
Theon wasn't sure that was a great idea. He may not have been to his homeland in some time, but even he remembered they were a proud race. Charity even in the guise of a generous dowry would not go down well.

"I know you have a low opinion of us Iron-folk but I don't think I'm actually that stupid. So rest assured, she will be perfectly happy. Not that it's any of your business." he strode off before Jon could irritate him further, leaving him gaping in shock.

 

I can’t allow myself to get angry. He’s saying these things because he cares about her. Even after he’d told himself that, Theon still rankled under Jon’s warning. How dare he talk to me like that? To be rebuked by a bastard!  
Even as he thought it, Theon had to admit that Jon had a point. He’d scarcely tried to hide his exploits at the brothel at Winterfell Town, almost proud of his reputation as a ladies’ man. 

_All eyes are going to be on me. They're all waiting to see me fail. Well, I'm not going to give them the satisfaction._


	3. Chapter 3

Theon was still in a bad mood when Robb caught up with him in the stable.

“I suppose you’re going to have a go at me as well.” Theon started before Robb could start. He was fed-up of everyone assuming that he was going to screw this up. Ned had impressed on him the great honour he was doing his family by proposing the alliance and he wasn’t going to mess this up just yet. The thought that Lord Stark might allow him back home at last. That he could finally take his place within his own family. It was more than he ever dared to dream of and it was all due to King Robert's proposal and Joffrey's utter stupidity.

Robb gave him a quizzical look at his friend's bitter statement. He sat down next to him, idly polishing his spurs as he talked. “Why would I do that?”

Theon was still not amused by Jon's rebuke. He didn't care if it seemed as if he was sulking. Maybe he was. He felt he had every right to feel insulted. “Jon spoke to me.”

The younger man looked thoughtful. “I thought he might say something.”

Theon couldn’t help resenting his reasonableness. Robb was _his_ friend. He should be supporting him! “What business of his whether I marry your sister? Assuming I’m going to cheat on her and abuse her? I’m not a brute, you know?”

“I know-” Robb’s voice was soothing and reassuring, smoothing Theon’s ruffled feathers. “She’s his sister too. He’s just worried about her welfare and this is all so sudden.”

“It’s sudden for me too! I didn’t even know I was about to get married until the King and your father said to both of us.” Theon protested.

“You approve of my match with your sister?” Robb’s faith in him surprised Theon. He had fully anticipated an argument, possibly even a fight. Perhaps he was so relieved at the thought that he wasn’t Joffrey, and so desperate to keep her out of his clutches that the entire family were willing to let slide just how unsuitable he really was for their darling girl.

Robb hesitated, thinking his response through. “Well I’ll admit I’m surprised by his Grace’s decision. But you’re not a bad man. You know we all care for her. And I understand his Grace's decision in a way. If it keeps her safe from the likes of Joffrey the Stinker, and gives us a bit of peace between our territories, it’s a good thing isn’t it?” his voice trailed away uncertainly.

“Jon thinks I would mistreat her. As if I would be such a fool.”

“You’ll treat her decent though, won’t you?” Robb asked him, blue eyes shining earnestly as he talked to Theon. “It’s just that Sansa is delicate and gentle-bred, you see.”

"What d'ye want me to do?"

“You’re going to have to woo her.”

Theon blinked. “Woo her?”

“You know the whole love token and cloak thing. Damn it Theon, I thought you knew about all this? You’re the one with the experience with females, not me!”

“You’re dead serious, aren’t you?” Theon wanted to laugh, he could feel his mouth starting to turn up at the corner in a most inappropriate fashion but he managed to control himself at the last second.

“Well, how d’ye get all those wenches falling at your feet then?” Robb looked a bit puzzled.

“What can I say? They can’t resist me?” To be honest he’d never had to exert much effort to get the girls to forget their modesty and go for a tumble with him, a smile, some sweet meaningless words and they usually ended up skirts turned up in some dark alcove, clinging to him and begging for more. He wasn’t fool enough to think such methods would work with Sansa. Not with her family round her, just waiting for him to screw up and make a mess of everything.   
How in the Drowned God's name was he bloody meant to woo her?

"You’ve got to spend time with her. Find out what she likes, what pleases her."

Though Theon could see the sense in what Robb said and he appreciated his whole hearted support for this situation, he was somewhat at a loss at the prospect of wooing Sansa.

“You want me to pay court to her? Like some poncey tourney knight? Just so I’m getting this straight?” He asked with a cynical smirk. "You do remember I'm not that Knight of the Flowers or whatever his blasted name is?"

“Don’t be an arse, Theon!” Robb rolled his eyes.“She’s my sister and I want her to be happy. Talk to her, get to know her, make her happy that’s all anyone is asking of you.”

Theon grunted, not remotely convinced.

"I know it’s not easy on you, but it’s not easy on her either. I know how charming you can be when you put your mind to it. Be pleasant and kind to her and she’ll respond, I guarantee it."

“You seem very sure about this, Stark.” Theon looked at his friend rather dubiously, but Robb was beaming confidently away as if the problem was solved already.

"I am. You'll see. Everything will work out just fine. Trust me."

 

The Raven sped towards the castle rising cold and forbidding from the rocks. A pennant fluttered in the breeze, black with a gold kraken. This was the ancestral hall of House Greyjoy, rulers of the Iron Isles and Theon's former home.   
As soon as the bird landed at it's destination, the thrall untied the message and scurried off straight away to give the missive to Lord Balon. It was more than her's life's worth not to deliver his messages in a swift and timely manner.

"My lord, a message for you." she cringed, cringing out of reach in case he was in a foul mood.

"Stop dribbling! What d'ye want? I'm busy!" Balon snapped, with little patience for the terrified thrall. "Speak up, I can't hear ye!"

"It's a message. Came this morn, my lord." she edged forward, head bowed, dropping the message on the desk in front of him.

"What's this?" Balon ripped pen the missive impatiently, nearly tearing it in half.

"A message, from the mainland, my lord."

He scanned the page scarce believing his eyes. Surely the Old Wolf and the Fat Stag had both gone stark raving mad. What were they both playing at? "Leave me-" he said , his voice soft with menace.

The thrall didn't need to be told twice. She fled the office still shaking in fear.

 

“Have you read this, girl?” Balon pointed at the crumpled scroll as Asha entered his solar. “What think you of this nonsense from Ned Stark?”  
Asha picked the piece of paper and scanned it for herself. She frowned, reading the missive again to make sure she’d got it right. A marriage proposal?

“He’s offering to return Theon. After all these years? What for?”

“If we accept his daughter as his true bride.” Balon's brow furrowed as he read on.

Asha cocked her head thinking about the proposal. On one hand, it was a very generous offer as far as she could see. The dowry he was offering them to accept was no laughing matter and it would certainly be a prestigious match for them. Asha was very aware that other noble families tended to sneer at them as little more than crooks and raiders. Not that she really cared what they thought, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of every slight.

“He’s being remarkably generous-” she observed, eyebrow raised at the amounts set down in the proposal.

“We have no need of their charity." Balon scowled, resentment creasing his brow as he thought of his old nemesis and his inexplicable generosity towards his son. "Lord Ned can stick his cargoes, and land-”

“I wouldn’t be quite so hasty as to reject their offer, Father-” Asha cajoled him, taking a spare scrap of parchment from his desk and starting to scrawl notes on his missive. "Not just yet. Let's see what they have to offer us-"

“Why not? Does he think he can buy us off? Mollify us by returning what was never his to take in the first place?”

“Have you seen how much they’re offering, Father? No mean sum, this-” she slid the piece of parchment with her final calculations on it towards him.

 

Balon skimmed the scroll, eyes widening in disbelief at the offer Robert and Ned offered in dowry for Sansa. “Are you sure that’s right, Asha?” he said incredulously, eyebrows raised at the sum in front of him. "Surely, one of your reckonings have gone awry? Too many noughts?"

“I went over the sums thrice over. I'm right, I know I am." Asha's chin went up slightly, proud of her competence. "That's what they're offering to the last dragon."

Balon scratched his long thin nose, deep in thought. “They’re offering us a King’s ransom to accept her. Why? What’s wrong with the chit? Has she got a stump or a sore leg or something?"

"I have no idea. Never seen the girl in my life."

Balon leaned back in his seat and evaluated his daughter with a sly expression on his face. "How would you like to take a trip to the Mainland for me, Asha dear?"

Asha snapped to attention. "I'll have five of my ships ready to sail by the morrow."

He gave her what passed as a fond smile. "Good lass, I knew I could rely on you."

 

Asha was deep in thought as she hurried away from the main tower, her steps echoing on the bridge. What would this mean for the Iron Isles and her family?

After all these years the Greenlanders wanted peace and to make amends. They were prepared to gift Lord Stark’s own eldest daughter to them as weregild. That was a pretty clear intent. But what price would they demand in return? They had no idea of what the girl Theon would be bringing back with him would be like. Whether she had the slightest inkling of their ways. She was probably terrified and scared stiff of her fate.

Why would Stark give his valuable treasure to them after all that had happened? It didn’t make any sense at all. They could probably get a great match for her with any of the other houses. They already had Theon as a hostage to ensure her father’s compliance. 

If Theon comes back would he be the heir, despite knowing nothing of their ways. She doubted Ned Stark had brought Theon up in the Old ways. And all her hard work would be wasted. 

There was no way she was going to give up her fleet to him. If he wanted to make a living on the Isles and support a wife and family, he was going to have to start at the bottom and earn it.


	4. Chapter 4

Asha set off in one of her smaller boats to Harlaw and her uncle's seat. It had been a while since she’d visited Uncle Rodrik and Mother and she was sure that they would like to know the news as soon as possible. Uncle Rod was a wise man, at least she could discuss the issue without her father’s sneering and negativity muddying the waters.

She moored the boat at the harbour, greeting acquaintances with a confident smile as she went and strode up the path to Ten Towers, ignoring One-Tooth who glared at the mud she was tracking into the house.

“Have you seen Uncle Rodrik?” she asked her Aunt Gywnesse who looked down her nose in great disapproval as she entered and made herself at home.

Asha let it roll off her back. Whatever she did Aunt Gywnesse would never be pleased. She doubted she would ever forgive her for her lack of femininity and passivity. For being too much Balon's daughter and his feminine mirror.

“Where he normally is, in his study. He said not to be disturbed except in a dire emergency.”

Asha just strode right past her, ignoring her petulant squawking. "Didn't you hear what I told you, insolent child? He's busy-"

“He’ll be glad to see me, I warrant.” She said airily. Gywnesse scowled, unable to stop her.

 

“Nuncle Rodd? Are ye busy?” she knocked on the door and waited to be admitted.  
He raised his head at the sound of her voice, coming out of his word-induced trance. He stretched and yawned in his seat. “Asha, dear, come sit. I had no idea you were coming. I would have ordered a warmer welcome. Have you rested and eaten, lass?”

“It’s fine Nuncle, I’m not staying long.” She said, dutifully giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m on my way to the mainland, on Father’s business.”

“What are you planning? Doing some reaving alongst the Stony Shore?” he teased, eyes twinkling.

She leaned back in her chair. “Not this time, Nuncle. I’m going to Winterfell.”

“Winterfell?” his curious eyes gleamed with newly kindled interest. “What sends you there?”

She settled in the seat opposite him. "Father wants me to see Theon's bride for myself. If we approve, then I suppose he'll want me to negotiate with the Greenlanders-"

"Theon's getting married?" Rodrik raised his eyebrows in surprise. It didn't seem so long ago, the lad had been taken to act as surety for Balon's compliance and now he was getting married. Time flew, all too soon and poor Alannys, his sister, still grieved the loss of her youngest boy and had missed out on so much of his life.

"Aye, the Old Wolf made us an offer. For his eldest daughter. Offered us a king's ransom to take her."

"Really?" he leaned forward with interest.

"As far as I could see he would return here with his bride. They would settle back home here." 

"They must value her very much." observed Rodrik. "A king's ransom, eh?"

"Or is it a bribe, I wonder. Why is Eddard Stark so keen to be rid of his daughter. D'ye Theon has already dishonoured her? Perhaps she is already with child? Perhaps the Old Wolf will agree to anything to have his grandchild legitimate.""

"You yourself, said they offered a king's ransom-" Rodrik pointed out, most reasonably. "Would they do that, if she was worthless?"

"What if it's a bribe? What if there's something wrong with her?" Asha fretted.

"You'll find that out when you go there." Rodrik said, "-just keep your eyes open, and send a raven if you can as soon as you know the truth. May I tell your mother of your news. I'm sure she would be glad to hear tiding of her son."

Asha felt as if she had been slightly selfish. Her mother craved news of her boy, even the letters from the Stark reporting on Theon's progress which Uncle Rodrik received from the Stark woman regular as the turn of the moon. her heart always broke a little t see her mother cradling the letters close as if they could be a substitute for the real thing until one of them took pity and prised them away from her before they got crumpled and creased beyond repair.

"What harm can it do? Tell her what you see fit. I'll write more from Winterfell if I can." Asha stood to take her leave. "I think I'll take you up on that offer of victuals now if you mind not."

He waved her away, returned to the spell of his pages, long neglected. "Of course, lass. Help yourself and make sure you have enough victual to make your journey."

 

_Winterfell_

 

Cat attempted to counsel and comfort her daughter as she came to terms with her new betrothal and marriage.

"I know this is hard for you, darling but you would be doing good." Cat stroked her daughter’s hair as rich and bright as hers.  
"To bring to the North and the Iron Isles. Peace and redemption, that’s no small thing, is it?"

Sansa relaxed against her mother, taking comfort from her soothing presence. Cat’s gentle hand stroking her fire bright hair. “Is it wrong for me to feel disappointed, mother? I had dreamed of a high match, to be married to a great lord-”

_And Theon is not what you dreamed of. I know darling, I know._

"A marriage is more than that. You know Theon. You’ve known him all your life. And he’s not so bad, really, underneath all his bravado.” Her voice trailed away hopefully, as if she were trying to convince herself, despite her own misgivings.

Sansa looked at her mother with uncertainty. "Mother, do you think he would be a good husband to me? Better than Joffrey?"

Anyone would be better than Joffrey. The more Cat thought about it the more she was convinced her daughter had a lucky escape from that boy and his mother. There was something about Cersei Lannister Baratheon that set her nerves at edge. If they could keep her girl away from her rapacious grasp then Cat counted that as a victory.

“Make the best of what you have. When I married your father, he was not what I chose. I don't think I have ever told you this, but originally I was to marry his brother Brandon instead. But your father did his duty as I did, and I have never regretted it."

“But you ended up with Papa and you’re both happy. I’m going to be Theon’s wife-” How does she tell her mother how scared she is of the prospect of being Theon’s wife? Of living on the Iron Isles, so different to everything she’d known.

“He might surprise you.” Cat said, pressing a kiss to Sansa’s temple. “Who knows, you might learn to care for him, even love him one day as I have your father. But you have to give him the chance to do so.”

 

Theon waited for Sansa at the foot of the tower. Robb had suggested they go for a walk and get to know each other that way. he said he would follow them to act as chaperone, but give them enough space for a little privacy. Theon knew he would rather have Robb who was at least a little sympathetic than Jon who still glared at him as if he expected him to dishonour his sister at the first chance he got. 

For his part, he was keen to take up the suggestion and get to know her better. He had more than enough of heroic tales of knights and fair ladies. Sitting there with a polite bland face as some endless ballad with a ridiculous amount of verses and chorus was sung and discussed. Arya making faces behind everyone’s backs, the little minx and attempting to make him laugh at the most inappropriate times.

He pulled at his best tunic, fingering the embroidered kraken worked in scarlet and gold thread at his breast. If truth be known he was a bit nervy spending time alone with his new betrothed. How was he going to convince Sansa that marrying him was a good idea? He expected her any moment to come to her senses and run screaming from him, his family and what they represented. Frankly he couldn’t have blamed her if she did.

She appeared wearing her spring furs and a pretty grey dress he didn’t think he’d seen before. Her hair bright as copper underneath her hood was half pulled back  
He stepped forward and offered her his arm. She flushed with pleasure as she accepted it, cheeks dimpling prettily. Theon thought it made her look young and fresh and too infinitely good for someone like him. 

How in all the god’s name was he meant to woo her?

“This is pleasant, is it not my lord?” she chirped. “Lovely fresh air and some exercise.”

He wasn’t quite sure where he was going to take her. He just wanted to get away from Winterfell and the claustrophobic atmosphere of the castle, everyone's eyes on them. They walked, Sansa gliding along elegantly beside him. He wanted to put his arm round her waist and pull her close, but he wondered if that was being too familiar. He was conscious of everyone watching him expecting him to be inappropriate so they could rebuke him. He wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction. He will act like a gentleman if it killed him.

“Is it so terrible being given to me?” he asked once they were mostly alone. Robb walked along the path behind them, kicking at clumps of grass and dawdling. “I know ‘tis not what you dreamed of, Sansa. You deserve much better, if I am honest.”

She blinked at his unguarded moment of honesty. “My father and his Grace decided on the match. I’m sure they have excellent reasons for it.” that polite serene mask slid back over her face. For a moment, Theon longed for that honesty and openness back again

“What do you think? I don’t want to know what they want. What do you want, Sansa?

She looked down, her lashes shadowing her cheeks. “You can’t ask that of me.”

“And yet I do.” there was something that made him persist, to find out what she really thought of the arrangement. If she viewed him with distaste, if she really didn't want, he would speak to Lord Eddard, try and persuade him that the union couldn't go on. 

She looked right up at him, her blue eyes honest and clear. “I admit ‘tis not what I dreamed. You know this ser, but given a choice between Joffrey and you, knowing what I know of him, I’d choose you.” She looked surprised to hear herself say that, blinking slightly at her own daring.

"And do you think, that you could ever feel anything more?"

“You want me to love you.” She mused, sounding wiser than her years. "Is that what you want, Theon?"

“Is that so very outlandish?” he challenged her, looking her straight in the eyes. 

  
_Could you love such a one as I?_ he seemed to ask her, unspoken.

She smiled gently, tucking her arm under his. He felt a ridiculous surge of hope at her gesture. “Maybe it will come. In time.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of things I need to clear up
> 
> * As a rule I'm not awfully keen on Ros but she did need to make an appearance, so here she is.
> 
> * I should have made it a lot clearer that this was an AU and Sansa and Theon had been aged up a bit as I'm really not a big fan of underage stuff. She is meant to be sixteen in this. Obviously, I am an idiot.

“Hark at the audience you’ve gained.” mocked Jory Cassel good-naturedly as he nocked his bow. "Got spectators now, m' lord Theon?" he gave a little nod of his head to indicate the newcomers. "Over there!"  
Theon looked up following the movement of his head to see Sansa wrapped in furs with Jeyne at her side, as pretty much always, the two lasses were fairly inseparable. She had come to watch him practice, in front of everyone. If that was not a statement of intent then he didn't know what was! 

Everyone knew why she was there, that she was bound to him, that she was going to be his bride. They were all speculating on his good turn of fortune. He felt on his mettle like he would have to try even harder as to not look a fool in front of her. He could feel the pressure already creeping up his spine.

She walked towards him with a radiant smile on her face, her bright hair in a plait over her shoulder contrasting with the light spring furs that draped over her. He found that he liked that colour on her, the forest green of her dress complementing her fair complexion and copper hair. She'd embellished the gown with subtle floral embroidery round the waist and neckline. He could see she had a length of black ribbon held tight in her hand.

“My Lord Greyjoy-” she murmured, dipping into a neat little curtsey, handing him her small gift.

He gave her a bemused smile, touching the ribbon . “What’s this?”

She pressed it into his hand, which tingled slightly from the unexpected pressure. “A good luck token from me to you.”

With a fleeting press of her soft lips against his cheek and a swirl of skirts she was gone. Ignoring Jory's poorly hidden smirk and the bubble of speculation at their meeting, he tucked it into his jerkin next to his chest to keep it safe as he shot. As she went back to the side, he noted her satisfied smile and the pleased flush of her cheeks, the tiny subtle look back at him over her fur clad shoulder. 

_Well, if that’s what keeps her happy, imagining me as some tourney knight competing for her favour then who am I to deny her?_ he told himself.

He touched his cheek where she had kissed him, skin still tingling slightly from the gentle touch of her lips. Never would have credited her with such daring. Sweetly yet firmly making her position clear, so that there was no doubt she'd accepted his initial suit. There was a small mean part of Theon that hoped Jon saw that kiss, however subtle and innocent.  
 _Put that in your pipe, Snow!_

"Are you going to take that shot or not?" Jory interrupted his thought and brought him back to the present.

Theon concentrated on the task at hand pulling back the bowstring and letting his muscle memory take over. Archery was one of the arts he excelled at and it would do no harm for her to see him at his best advantage.

After the round he took out the ribbon to have a closer look at it. He noticed the krakens embroidered in gold thread all along it, the exquisite detail in her stitching, the intricacy of the interwoven tentacles. He ran his finger over it admiring the work that had gone into it. He was unaccountably pleased with her gesture.

Perhaps....perhaps all was not lost after all.

 

Theon was looking forward to their regular afternoon walks, which had swiftly turned into a habit between them. Even though Lord Ned insisted on a chaperone accompanying them, it was good to spend quality time with each other.  
 _If we are going to be together for the rest of our lives then I have to know whether we are compatible. Can I live with her -only her- for the rest of our lives?_  


He was truly at a loss. Even though Robb had advised him to spend time with his sister and find out what she liked, he felt as if he wasn't making much progress despite the ribbon- and he was very aware that time was running out. Joffrey and his mother were still in the North, and they had to be wed before they could intervene.

_She’s still such a mystery to me. And yet I cannot fail. Lord Ned and the king made that perfectly clear to me._  
I have to convince Sansa that they made the right decision giving her to me, and allowing me to return home to claim my inheritance.  
He knew that Joffrey was the better match on paper. The match that any ambitious high-born family would choose despite his obvious personal failings. He was Crown Prince and future king of the Seven Kingdoms, instead of an exiled ward beholden to the mercy and charity of Lord Eddard; heir to a bunch of barren rocks isolated from the rest of the realm, and a people with a grim reputation for raiding and thievery, teetering on the edge of hunger and poverty. He didn't want her to regret choosing him instead in future years.

They moved deeper into the forest, using the paths that led to the centre of the wooded area. Sansa looked round with rather cautious glances, evidently unsure about being so far from a chaperone. He wanted to tell her to relax, to live a little and stop fretting about bending the rules just a bit, but he didn't think she would appreciate it. He managed to keep his mouth shut  
 _I'm going to have to calm her fears before making a move. I don’t want to scare her off all at once._

“Where are we going, Theon? Are you sure we aren't lost?” She asked, looking round her cautiously as they moved deeper into the forest. "I really don't know if I should have allowed you to persuade me to go off with you without a chaperone?"

“Wait and see, I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

She looked up at him with an amused smile. “A surprise? Is it going to be a pleasant one?”

"I hope so at least-"

They reached the clearing and he set down his bundle, spreading his cloak on the forest floor. He privately thanked the gods or whatever higher powers were in charge of the weather that it had remained fine, no rain or cold to spoil their intimate little picnic. 

“What do you think?” he asked her once he had set up.

She gazed round, beaming at the loveliness of her surroundings, surprised by how pleasant it was and how much though he'd put into their tryst. The clearing was small but carpeted with bluebells, snowdrops and other woodland flowers. It was rather sweet, she told herself. It was...well, almost romantic, she supposed. For him-

“I come here to practice occasionally, when I want some peace and quiet.” he told her. She could see arrow marks on the bark of some of the trees, a couple of discarded arrowheads on the floor near the roots. How many times did he come here by himself, she wondered, pondering idly whether he'd ever brought anyone here to share his refuge.

“It’s nice here. Lovely and peaceful and so pretty.” She leant against the bark of the tree, spreading her skirts elegantly round her. “I can see why you like it here. What’s all this?”

"I prevailed upon the kitchens to provide some victuals. I thought we'd have ourselves a woodland picnic, talk a little-"

_And hopefully get up to a wee bit more,_ he thought but did not say.

He had to say the kitchens had done themselves proud. Fresh warm bread from the ovens, a slice of pie each and even a lemon cake for Sansa, as they all knew how much she liked them.  
She licked a crumb of lemon cake from the corner of her mouth. He couldn't stop staring at the movement of her tongue as it passed over her lips.

"Can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer it, if you don't want to. Did you actually like Joffrey?"

She thought for a little seeking a way to answer with honesty. "I liked the idea of marrying him at first. He's a good catch and he was golden and good-looking. I was so dazzled by the idea of wedding a prince of the realm, I tried to ignore the signs he wasn't what I hoped he would be, until I really could not any more."

"Yes, and it's all my fault. He pushed Bran because he was trying to defend me. He didn't even have any remorse. He could have seriously hurt Bran, he could have killed him and he didn't care. How could I marry someone like that?"

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked him, regarding him with innocent curiosity.

“You’re a beauty, you know that. I know full well I'm lucky to even have the chance of having you.” he said gruffly.

She blushed a bit, embarrassed to admit she liked his compliments as rough and unpolished as they were.

“I know you've spent a lot of time with me and Jeyne. You are trying to woo me, not just assume that since his Grace ordered you to have me, that I should just come to terms with it and do my duty for the sake of both our Houses. I do appreciate it, you know." She snuggled in his arms, getting comfortable against him.

_Be bold Theon. Fortune favours the brave after all. It's just one kiss, I'm not asking for the moon, he told himself even though he might as well be._

"Sansa-" he stroked the side of her face, focusing her attention on him.

“Do you really think this is such a great idea?” she looked right into his eyes. He was very close to her now, eyeing her intently, gaze focused on her mouth. She couldn't look away from him, it was as if he could see right into her.  


“I just want to kiss you, just once. So I can find out if we would be good together, as husband and wife. Is that so bad?” his voice was sweet and tempting, drawing her still further.

"You really shouldn't-" she reminded herself, even thought she didn't move away from him.  


"I've never been good at doing things I should do-" he murmured, low and husky in her ear, and was that the trail of his tongue on the shell of her ear?

Now she knew why Septa Mordane warned so severely about the dangers of kissing men. _They will do anything, say anything to allow you to let them have their will. Girls, you must constantly be on your guard!_

She and her mother would have fits if they ever found out. It really wasn't proper for him to do it but Sansa could't find it in her to stop him just yet.

He bent down to kiss her, taking her a little by surprise. Her eyes fluttered shut, her hand sliding into his hair. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, encouraging her to yield and open them to allow his kiss to deepen. She never thought it would be like this between them, tender and gentle at first then gaining in passion as she opened up to him. 

"Was I... am I doing it right?" she asked breathlessly, after they reluctantly broke apart for breath. "Do you think you could want me as your wife?"

He gazed back at her with eyes grown dark and dazed. he was as affected as she was by their kisses.

"It's going to be good between us. Don't think we will have any trouble at all, trying for a child." The thought of that brought a blush to her cheeks.

They were so absorbed in each other, that neither heard the approaching steps of Jon and Robb until it was too late.

"There they are!" Robb's relieved voice rang out. "I told you they couldn't have gone too far, Jon- What the!" he trailed off, shocked at the compromising position he found his sister in.

The couple pulled apart guiltily, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She hurriedly moved away from Theon, who'd frozen in shock, hand still cupped on her bosom.

"Greyjoy! What the devil do you think you're doing?" Jon barked, glared at the guilty pair most disapprovingly. He took in the surroundings, the remains of the picnic, their cloaks spread on the ground, the carpet of flowers in the clearing and came to his suspicious conclusions.

"It's not what it looks like, truly-"

Jon was not convinced, glaring at Theon as if the only reason he hadn't blacked his eye yet is that he didn't want to upset his sister.

"Sansa, go home with Robb. Go on now." he said trying to keep his voice level.

She stepped in, eager to plead her innocence. "Jon please don't be angry! We were just having a picnic and talking. Nothing happened, I swear it."

Her brother gave her a look of disbelief. "I find you with his tongue down your throat and his hand down your bodice and you're seriously trying to tell us nothing happened?"

Theon knew it wasn't wise, but he simply had to protest that one. "I didn't have my hand down her bodice. It was-" his tact kicked in just in time and he ground to a halt.

"Greyjoy, don't make it worse for yourself. Seriously-" Robb groaned, despairingly shaking his head.

"But Jon, please-"

"Don't argue, Sansa. Go home. Now!"

As soon as Robb and Sansa left, her shooting Theon an slightly apologetic glance as she disappeared back home, Jon grabbed Theon by the neck and pinned him to the bark of the nearest tree. "You know what the rules are, Greyjoy, stop trying to push your luck!"

"I didn't-" Theon wheezed, struggling to be free and failing. Jon's grip held him tight.

"I don't think you two should be going on any more cosy walks. You want to continue courting my sister, you do it within the castle walls, with a chaperone, is that clear?-"

"Very-" Theon said reluctantly, dropping Jon's stern gaze.

"I hope it is. Next time you think to be smart and bend the rules, I'll go straight to Father. Is that understood?"

 

Ser Roderick was on gate duty when there was a disturbance at the gate. A shrill female voice demanding to come in and not taking ‘No’ for an answer.

“Begging yer pardon, but there’s someone at the gate who insists on seeing Theon Greyjoy. They won’t be budged, I tried to tell them to be on their way, but-”

“What do they want?”

The junior guard fidgeted, rubbing his ear awkwardly with his shoulder. “It’s a she.”  
The two exchanged a significant glance. Normally they would send a message for the lad to get his sorry arse out here and sort out his own problems, but now that he was betrothed to the young miss of the house, the situation was rather more complex.

“Did the wench say what she want?”  


“Aye, I think we can work out what she wants.” snorted the young guard, with a smirk. “It’s that Ros from Winter Town, ain’t it?”  
Ser Roderick glared at the hapless junior. “That’s enough out of you. Go and get Greyjoy. Tell him it’s urgent.”

Theon noticed the junior guard dogging his steps, and looking like he wanted to converse with him. “What are you doing here?” 

Theon was not in the mood for this. Since Jon and Robb had caught them in the wood kissing, their pleasant walks had been curtailed. If he wanted to keep wooing Sansa he was confined to the castle and the solar. 

Theon frankly was bored stiff. Another pointless afternoon of winding wool while Jeyne and Sansa chattered about some inane fashion that had come up past the Neck from the South. 

How can you have such an in depth conversation about necklines and ribbon! It was completely beyond him. That sour-faced Septa looking down her pointy nose at me with a mouth like a cat’s arse.

As if he was going to get up to no good with Sansa with her chaperoning them. All he'd wanted to to see if they would be physically compatible, he wasn't doing anything really wrong; they were going to be wed soon anyway. Jon was so over- protective he had to go and over react like an idiot.

“M’Lord, um Ser. Yer wanted-” he could barely get the words out in his nervousness, toeing the fresh rushes with a rough boot.

_What was this all about?_ Theon was at the end of his patience and so was sharper than he needed to be.

“What? Slow down, I can’t understand a word you’re dribbling. Who wants me?”

“-Wanted at the gate, m’lord. It’s a wench. Determined to speak with you. Won’t leave ‘til she’s seen you.”

Theon cursed under his breath. _What was some idiotic wench doing here stirring up trouble? Fine, he’d deal with it before it came to Lord Ned’s attention._

"Very well, lead the way-" he sighed, in irritation.

“When were you going to tell me?” the female went straight on the attack as soon as she spotted him.  
Standing there with her hands on her hips, a stubborn look on her face was a woman Theon had hoped not to be faced with just yet.

“Ros!” he hated the way his voice went up in a guilty yelp at the end.

“Oh, so you remember my name, do ye?” her voice penetrated, shrill and raucous as she turned her attention to him. She was ready and eager for battle, bristling with animosity down to the dark red hair which fair seemed to crackle with anger and annoyance.

Of all the times to come round here, when all the guards were watching them! He had no doubt they couldn't wait to scuttle to Lord Eddard and tell him all about this. Sansa was not going to be happy about this either or the rest of the family. After Jon Snow’s discovery of him kissing Sansa in the forest unchaperoned, he wasn't exactly the favoured person in the house.

“What, are ye ashamed of me?” she glared at him. “Is that it? Yer had yer fun and now you turn your back on me?”

He had to put a stop to this as soon as possible. He could see the guards all gathering round to witness her tongue-lashing. The cursed bastards, grinning in the background as they witnessed his humiliation!

“Come Roslin, now isn't the time.” He tried to deflect her, but it failed to work.

“So when is it going to be the time?” she sneered, digging in her heels. There was an obstinate expression on her face, that he knew too well and usually meant he’d have to slip her an extra treat to mollify her ruffled sensibilities. “When you’re fastening your cloak round Lord Ned’s nubile daughter?”

He didn't like the way Ros talked of Sansa with that disparaging tone of voice. Maybe Ros had some claim to be annoyed with him, but Sansa had nothing to do with this.

“That’s none of your business, and I’ll thank you not to talk about it.”

She ignored the icy tone in his voice. “You used me-”

Theon wasn't in a mood to be reasonable, not when she’d barged into the castle and made a spectacle of herself. “We used each other.”

Her mouth fell open in shock at the callous way he’d said it. “Theon!”

“You must have known that things were never going to work for that long.”

“It suits you to say that now, don’t it?” she sneered, face twisted in fury, getting right in his face "-but that's not what you used to say in the dead of night when you clutched at me, and told me you loved me and needed me?"

Damn it, she'd always knew exactly how to hit him where it hurt. Theon winced at the truth of it, unable to deny what had been between them. “You should never have come here, Roslin. Gods, I'm sorry-”

“You’re just sorry you got caught out, Theon, don’t lie!” she snapped, unwilling to accept any kind of apology. She glared, sticking out her snub nose in defiance.

“Things have changed. I don’t expect you to understand.” _If she knew, then how many knew about the match. Gods, could this get any worse? How had he managed to screw this up so badly?_

“No, I don’t understand. One minute you swear you love me and won’t leave me be, the next you refuse to see me, what’s that about?”

"The King and Lord Eddard asked me to marry. They offered to let me return home. I would be an idiot to pass that up, wouldn't I?"

“What happened? Did ye knock ‘er up or summat. That why yer in such a hurry to marry Little Miss Priss?-”

"You have no right to speak of her in that way!"

"And why's that? Don't tell me you've gone and fallen for the girl?" she sneered, rolling her eyes slightly.

“What’s going on, Theon? Who is this, and what does she want?”

Theon groaned, cursing his extreme bad luck. Just what he didn't need! Sansa standing right behind him, looking between them with a puzzled look in her big blue eyes.

Ros was a little cowed by the appearance of the young miss of the castle in the flesh. She dipped into an awkward curtsey, eyes cast down.

"Aren't yer going to tell her who I am? Or ain't yer got the guts?" Ros demanded of Theon.

“Shall we take this somewhere a little more private?” Sansa asked the other woman with her usual mask of serene politeness. She swept back towards the house and such was the force of her personality that Theon and Ros followed in her slipstream.

He had no idea what Sansa was really thinking as they walked. Whether she was truly angry with him. He wouldn't blame her if she was. Damn Ros and her melodrama! he cursed, feeling a unwelcome twinge of guilt. He hadn't handled this well at all.

 

“Now why were you so angry at Lord Greyjoy?” she asked Ros as soon as they reached the sanctuary of the entrance hall, out of the range of prying eyes.

“Well, miss." Ros started, with a bob of a curtsey. "It’s just that we had an understanding of sorts. Seems like I was mistaken-” she sniped, shooting a death glare at Theon, which he felt was completely unjustified.

Sansa said nothing much, merely raising an eyebrow in an expression very like Lady Catelyn at her most disapproving and sceptical. “I see.”

“There was talk in the town of you two marrying and I was so riled, I just came up here to speak to Theon. I didn't really think about it.” Ros’s face crumpled. “I had to hear it from other people, not from him. I...I thought... ” 

Sansa waited to regain her composure, soothing her by patting her and letting the older woman's sobs subside. “We were trying to be discreet about the betrothal." she told her gently, trying to console her as she could. "It’s rather a sensitive subject. I'm truly sorry if you felt hurt.”

Theon felt like he should apologise to Sansa for that debacle, but he didn't know where to start, his tongue halted by impossibilities. She was probably furious with him. How mortifying for Ros to air his dirty linen in public, in front of his betrothed, no less!

“Is this going to be a regular occurrence, Theon?” she said eventually, her voice cool and calmer than he’d thought it would be.

He wasn’t quite sure of how to handle this calm poised Sansa. He would have been able to handle a furious angry female or a weepy one, but her coolness disconcerted him utterly. “I-um-”

_Eloquent as hell, Greyjoy. Well done!_ He chided himself.

“Because I’d like to know if I'm going to have to avoid other distraught females berating us for getting married. Any more disappointed women in the woodwork?”

He tried to touch her, reassure her physically, recreate that wonderful spark that ignited between them in the forest, but she evaded his grasp, shaking her head. 

"Was Jon right? Was I a fool to listen to your fine words?" she asked him 

Theon was slightly outraged. Jon said that to her behind his back? That cock-blocking sanctimonious git! Theon resolved he was going to have to have a serious talk to Snow when he got hold of him.

“No, no you weren't the fool, I promise you.” He tried to soothe her ruffled feathers. "Come Sansa, look at me-"

She had a rueful look on her face, shaking her head. “I shouldn't believe a word you say, should I?”

She couldn't believe that he'd lied that afternoon in the forest, that moment he kissed her and realised how much he desired her and wanted her to be his? The moment it had all become real and no longer some game to him. Ros and her dramatics had just set him back weeks of progress in wooing Sansa. The thought of it made him want to howl in misery.

"I had no idea that she would come here and be so angry. I was as caught out as anything." he heard himself pleading, try to persuade her to forgive him for his sins. "I didn't want any of this, I assure you."

“You should have just told her yourself. You owed her that at least.”

“I know. I realise that now.” Theon took his rebuke feeling like he thoroughly deserved it, if he were honest. "I know I did wrong, but can you forgive me?"

"It's not me you should be apologising to. It's that poor girl who came here to confront you because you've discarded her for someone new. I thought you might have made-" an embarrassed flush started to bloom on her face. "- other arrangements in the past. You're a grown man with needs. I just didn't expect to be confronted with them so soon. I think I'd better go-"

"But Sansa-" he protested. She walked away without saying another word, leaving him feeling worse then ever. 

How could he have messed things up so badly?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a transition chapter, just to round off things at Winterfell before the wedding proceeds.

Theon was brooding as he stayed out practising his sword-work in the courtyard even though the light was beginning to fail and evening was about to fall. How could he have been so foolish! Sansa was too polite to rebuke him about the Ros debacle but it didn't take a genius to work out she was displeased at being faced with a rival for her affections. After he'd worked so hard to get her to trust him and accept his suit. 

I cannot allow myself to fail. _This is my return home, my future at stake. Sansa is relying on me and the King. Everyone is relying on me._  


He had been a fool to say those things to Ros, he knew that now. She was a whore, probably been with three-quarters of the garrison at Winterfell, he knew that but in the dead of night in the heat of the moment, a man might say anything. He couldn't be held responsible for what he said then, could he?  
 _I have to make it up to Sansa. Let her see that I did not lie that day in the forest when I kissed her._

Sansa hadn't crossed his path in the last couple of days. He wouldn't have been too surprised if she had been avoiding him because of her disappointment and disillusionment with his wooing. I have to make this right. Somehow…  
He didn't want to ask advice from Robb, even if the younger man would have willingly volunteered it. He was going to have to do this himself, if only to wipe that smug look off Snow’s face. He saw a flash of copper hair heading towards the glass gardens and instinct told him to follow her and get her alone. It was risky, especially since the family were still annoyed at the liberties he had taken in the forest, but needs must. They want results from me, then they can't be too fussy about my methods.

 

Sansa lit the lanterns as she entered the glass structure. She wanted to gather some herbs to stock up the distillery before bed, and because if she was honest, she needed the solitude for she needed the space to think.  
 _I don't know why I was so surprised about Theon and Ros. I knew he had women and I had a good idea of what he did with them. So why do I feel so well...disappointed?_

“Sansa?”

She jumped, hood falling down to reveal her bright hair in the lamplight.

“You gave me the fright of my life! What did you want?” she clutched at her chest, bosom heaving as she caught her breath.

He fidgeted under her gaze. “To speak to you. Alone, if I may.” He strode towards her.

“You know we shouldn't-” she started, backing away from him with a nervous glance behind her, as if apprehensive that someone would see them talking privately.

“Just a few moments. You can spare me a few moments, can’t ye?” 

She knew she shouldn't, she should let him sweat but she was too soft-hearted to let him stew for much longer, not when he looked so ill-at-ease and miserable. If truth be known, he'd been looking unhappy all week. She'd noticed him out of the corner of her eye, looking exactly like a kicked puppy. 

Perhaps... perhaps he feels bad about the Ros situation. Well, so he should do! Fancy not telling her! How awkward that situation was! She'd tried her hardest to handle it with grace, but what was she meant to think?

"I really am very sorry about Ros. I had no idea she was going to come here, you must believe me. You shouldn't have had to face her like that." he sounded almost apologetic, earnestly looking into her eyes. 

She shouldn't be weak, she shouldn't let him get away with things so easily. Sansa told herself, trying to keep aloof and cool. "Can I ask you a question?"

He blinked, as if hadn't expected her to be so calm about things. She had a certain amount of pride, she wasn't about to start berating him like a fish-wife. "Ask me? Yes-"

"Did you love her?" She stopped him as he started to protest. "-What she said, that you held her in the night and told her you needed her. Was that true?" 

She didn't know how she had the courage to ask him but she wanted to know. Did he really have any feeling for her at all? Or was it just ambition mixed with a little lust on his part? Was she going to have to compete for his attention with other women?

"Sansa, listen to me." his arms slid round her waist pulling her close. "That day in the forest when I kissed you, that wasn't a lie. I do care for you, you must know that." he tilted her face up towards his and kissed her. Her arms went up to cling to him, pressing her body close to his.

She reluctantly prised herself away from his embrace. He ran the back of his hand down the side of her face in a surprisingly tender gesture.

She gave him a wobbly uncertain smile as she looked at him. "I- I really do have to go now. Septa Mordane and Arya will be wondering where I am." She stammered.

"So shall I see you at breakfast? Perhaps I could attend you and Jeyne in the solar again?" She knew he grew restless with her and the ladies as they played the harp and sewed, but he did it for her so they could spend time together. He was trying to make an effort to woo her. Perhap it wouldn't be so weak to give him a second chance, would it?

"Yes," she said softly, "I'd like that, Theon a great deal."

 

Sansa pulled her hood up, hoping she wouldn't be seen or missed until she had done what she had to do in Winter Town. It was mortifying and she still didn't know how she could have the daring to slip out and discuss this, but needs must. She had to do something and she couldn't exactly ask Septa Mordane for what she wanted. I'll only be gone for an hour, and Jeyne agreed to cover for me. Her friend had wanted to go with her, but Sansa who felt hot at the mere thought of what she was about to dare managed to dissuade her.

“Sansa? What are you doing?” said a familiar voice behind her, just as she was about to slip out of the servant's entrance, hood pulled up. She was wearing one of Jeyne's older dresses as a disguise, so no one should have been able to identify her, except for at close range. But she hadn't accounted for Arya and his younger sister's sharp eyes - or her blasted inquisitiveness!

She groaned to herself. Trust Arya to catch her just as she didn't want to be seen!

“I just have something to do-” she said, voice trailing off lamely. “-I’ll be back before curfew. No one will ever know I left unless you tattle on me.”

"You'd tattle on me, Sansa." observed Arya enjoying herself just a wee bit too much. "If the boot was on the other foot, you and Jeyne would be running to Mother and Septa Mordane as we speak."

Now that was a bit unfair, even if it was a bit true. "No, I wouldn't . Not if was important. Please, Arya, don't be difficult!"

“ You're not going to meet Theon in secret again?" Arya asked mock- innocently.

Sansa went crimson with embarrassment, confirming her suspicions. 

"I suspected something happened after you took so long to come in from gathering herbs from the glass gardens the other evening, all flushed and rumpled with a ridiculously soppy smile on your face."

"I did not!"

"You so did! I've got eyes, Sansa, I can see things you know. And Theon was strutting around again, like cock of the walk instead of having a face like a wet weekend. I take it you've forgiven him then?"

"I might have done, not that it's anyone's business but ours." 

Arya looked pleased to be proven right.

Theon the next morning had stopped sulking and was positively cheery, whistling under his breath at breakfast, sneaking glances at her when he thought no one else was looking. Alright, they were not good at hiding their feelings from the rest of the castle.

"You know that if you are sneaking off for secret kisses, he’s going to get into trouble again with Jon and Father? D’ye really want to risk it?”

"We are going to be wed, there's nothing wrong with spending a little time together. Father wanted us to court each other, didn't he?" Sansa said primly.

She didn't want to admit what she was up to but Arya was very persistent, and wouldn't give her any peace until she had found out exactly what she was planning.

"So this is why you're slipping out to town, then?" Arya observed. "I'm right, aren't I?"

“You’re not to say a word. I mean it!”

“My lips are sealed-” Arya swore, the merest hint of a mischievous glint in her grey eyes.”- not a peep from me, I promise!”

Sansa looked suspiciously at her, watching Arya for the slightest sign of deception before relenting and opening up a little. “I need to go into town to speak to someone about something important.”

“But you don't want anyone to know? Is that why you're sneaking around?” there was no getting one past her sister. Arya was a sharp as a tack when she wanted to be.

“ I'm not sneaking!” Sansa protested. “Er…It’s a rather delicate situation.”  
Arya leaned forwards, intrigued by the mystery. Sansa could see the thought behind her eyes: What secret was her very proper sister hiding now?  


“-And this is to do with your betrothed, is it?”  


Sansa could feel herself starting to go pink, and she privately cursed her tell-tale fair skin for giving away her every emotion so readily. “-it might be.”

“Hmm.” the younger girl said little but looked at her most suspiciously.

“Please, Arya. This is important to me, and I don't have much time to find out the answer.” She pleaded.

She relented eventually, unable to resist the pleading in Sansa's eyes. “Alright. As long as Jory and I go with you, I won't say anything.”  


“Arya!” Sansa protested.

The younger girl was unmoved by her pleas, mouth pulled into a severe line which reminded Sansa of their septa at her most disapproving. “That's my final offer, take it or leave it.”

|

Sansa wanted to refuse, but she didn't have much of a chance, and if she didn't do it tonight, who knew when she would get a chance to ask the questions she needed answers to? “You drive a hard bargain, Arya.” she grumbled.  
Arya looked rather pleased with herself at getting her own way. “-Of course I do.”

 

Ros was between customers when one of the other girls poked their head round the door.  


“You decent?” called Sarah from the doorway, raising her voice to catch her attention. “You ain't got a gent in there with yer, have yer?”  


Ros looked away from her mirror, cocking her head at the sound of the other woman's voice. “Course I am. Ain't got a client for at least an hour.”  


“Good. There’s a lass downstairs, wants to see you private-like.”

She was obviously not a client, so what did the girl want? “A lass? Whatever for? Who is it?”  
The other woman shifted awkwardly. “It’s the Stark lass. The older one, the one who’s marrying Theon.”  
Ros couldn't believe her ears. She gave her colleague a sharp glance over her shoulder, dark red hair flowing over her bare shoulders. “Sansa Stark? What in the blazes is she doing here? Alone?”  


“She has a companion and Jory Cassell here as well. But she wants to speak to you alone, if she can.”

Ros was intrigued enough to find out more. What exactly did the young miss want with her? "You may as well let her up then. Find out what she wants with me, eh?"

Her friend shook her head. “I told ye not to go to the castle stirring the pot and making trouble for yerself. Let him go, he’s just another man. His silver's no better than anyone else's, y'know?”

"I'm not going to fight over him. What d'ye think I'm going to do, launch into a cat-fight with Eddard Stark's daughter over a man?" Ros scoffed.  
Judging by the tales she'd heard of Ros's appearance at Winterfell castle and her tongue lashing of Theon in the courtyard for everyone to hear, that was exactly what she'd feared.

"Well, you did charge up to the castle to confront him, who knows what you're planning to do, Ros? We all know you're a bit hot-blooded at times."

"That was a mistake-" she muttered. "You should have tried to stop me making a fool of meself-."

The other girl snorted. "As if I could luv! I did tell you not to get too involved with him. He's a punter, you used to forget that at your peril."

"Alright, alright, no need to nag! Send her up, then." Ros said. "Let's get this over with-"

“M’lady, why are you here?” Ros asked as Sansa and Arya slipped into the room, cloaked and hooded.  


Sansa fidgeted, clearly ill-at-ease with the situation. She gazed round the humble room, her eyes moving hesitantly over the furnishings and the large rumpled bed in the centre. “I er… well, I need some advice.” she muttered, head cast down.  
Ros nearly laughed her head off at that one, but the girl seemed dead serious, her face pale and anxious. She bit her lip, looking at her with big worried eyes.

_Bless her, six and ten and she's still such a girl! Well I suppose she can afford to be, can't she?_  
“You want advice? From me? What for?” 

Sansa cast an uncomfortable look at her younger sister, evidently unwilling to confide in front of her . Ros decided to get the younger lass to leave for a moment otherwise she would probably never come out with it and confide in her.

“How about if you go to the bar and get us some ale or wine on account? Say it's for Ros and her guests-" she asked Arya. "I have a feeling this is going to be thirsty work, this.”

Arya gave her sister a reluctant look, as if suspecting they would start cat-fighting as soon as her back was turned, but Sansa gave her sister an encouraging nod.

As soon as Arya left, Ros turned to address Sansa with a look half amused, half wary. “You obviously want something, so what is it, m’lady?”

Sansa bit her lip, but when she finally spoke her voice was surprisingly poised. “You and Theon, you had a relationship. You knew how to please him. I… well. I need to learn. Quickly. Please-”

Of all the things she had expected Sansa Stark to say to her, this certainly was not one of them. Ros was genuinely surprised by what she just asked her. "Are you serious? You want me to give you my secrets?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't need to know. I would make it worth your while, I promise." Sansa drew a silver stag out of her bodice and laid it on the table. Ros weighed it in her hand, assessing the coin. "There isn't a lot there, but I hope it will be enough."

What was the lass talking about? A stag was enough to keep her comfortably for a couple of weeks. She must be very desperate to find out Theon's secrets.

"Don't you have someone to tell you what's what in the bedchamber?" Ros enquired. "Have you not spoken to yer mother about what's expected of yer in the marital bed?"

The younger girl's chin went up defiantly. She's a determined little one, ain't she? thought Ros with an amused smirk. "Not what I need to know."

"Why are you so desperate for information?" Ros shook her head.

"I have to marry him and soon. It doesn't matter why. But I know I need to give him an heir and I need to keep him happy. Failure is not an option."

"-and love don't come into it?" Ros asked, feeling a spark of sympathy for the lass despite herself. Now that she recalled it, wasn't there some rumours that the royal party were arranging a match for her with the Crown Prince? What happened with that? Why was she so desperate to marry Theon in such a hurry anyway?

Sansa silently shook her head.

Ros sighed, unable to believe she was going to do this. She must be going soft in the head. "-very well. come closer. What I'm about to tell you must not leave these walls, or your father and mother would probably have my head."

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing first, I just want to thank everyone for their interest in this story. I appreciate it a lot. I don't think I've ever written something that's been so popular frankly.
> 
> Nanowrimo is fast approaching and I have an original story I want to tackle. I will try and write some more chapters for this as part of my word count but that will be taking priority just for November. There should be more updates available then as I've written quite a bit of the wedding ceremony and the journey back to the Isles.

####  **Ten Towers, Harlaw**

Balon sailed into the harbour and secured his boat, ignoring the greetings of his subjects as he went. He never liked coming here, not after Alannys had left him and returned to her ancestral home. Coming here just reminded him of his failure to comfort and keep his wife after the failed rebellion. No matter how he'd humbled himself and cajoled her, Alannys refused to return to Pyke with him, growing so distressed that in the end Rodrik asked him firmly to desist from upsetting her. 

"She wants to come home to Ten Towers. She's not happy at Pyke, Lord Balon. Leave her be." 

"But she's my wife!" Balon protested, outraged at not getting his way. 

"She'll be safe here, I promise you." Rodrik consoled him with a determined look that told he'd not change his mind and if Balon pressed the point he would be forced to defy his liege-lord. With an ill- grace, Balon had to subside.

He'd not chase after her; if she didn't want him then that was her problem! He thought, stubbornly digging his heels in.

"I'm here to see Alannys." He said bluntly- riding roughshod over any objection in his impatience. He didn't have time for this, not when he was expecting word from Asha about the Stark proposal. The Fleet were ready to depart for the Northern territories, as soon as they got the word from her.  
Gwynesse got on his nerves, always looking down on him as if he was not good enough to associate with her illustrious family. The woman was unconsciously proud with no reason at all- she wasn't the chatelaine of Ten Towers and never would be. He wouldn't have tolerated it personally in a wife, but Rodrik -soft-hearted as he was- indulged her to a perplexing degree.

Alannys stood by the open windows, her arms wrapped around herself, as if huddling for warmth. She was barely dressed in nothing more than her shift, her fair hair unbrushed and hanging down in lank hanks. She had deep dark shadows under her eyes and she could have done with some more colour in her wan cheeks, but she seemed happier and more content than she had in a long while. _Hadn't anyone told her he was coming?,_ He asked himself.

"Balon?" she asked, faintly focusing on him as he approached her. "It is you, isn't it?

Her wide-eyed stare made him uncomfortable. He averted his eyes, unable to meet her blank gaze. "How do ye fare?" he addressed his former wife with a gruff tone, the affection for her well hidden underneath.

She gave him a vague smile. "Very well, Balon. Asha tells me my boy's getting married! That my darling lad's coming home with a bride."

Asha must have come here of her own volition. He hadn't given any orders for her to stop off here before her voyage to the Northern lands. 

_Why would she have told her mother of the proposed match? It was by no mean a done deal. For all anyone knew he might say nay!_

Even as he thought it, Balon knew that he wasn't being entirely honest. The dowry that the Old Wolf Stark and Robert the Lecher had offered was nothing to be sneezed at, even he'd seen that once he's inspected Asha's calculations properly. The girl might be a greenlander but she was high-born, a valuable female and if she was anything like Stark's woman, very beautiful and fruitful with five children to her credit. With the loss of two of his heirs, it was something he would have to consider.

Asha was right. they would have to take the proposal seriously. A man might grow great through his deeds, but if he didn't have a secure line to follow him and carry on his legacy , then all his efforts were for naught. Stark had taken his only heir but had returned him and given his daughter in compensation. Perhaps this could work, if his son had managed to manipulate Stark into giving him the girl and extract the king's ransom from him, maybe he wasn't as useless as he had suspected he was.

"I have a boon to ask of you, my Lord." Alannys asked.

A boon? Are ye not happy here? I thought your brother saw to your needs-" Balon replied. "D'ye lack for anything?"

She shook her head. "I want to go with you."

Of all the things, he expected her to say, that didn't come to mind. "You want to do what?" he echoed.

"- When you go to see the Stark for their wedding. I want to see my boy happy." her face was radiant with happiness as she spoke, envisaging her reunion with her darling boy. "I want to see the girl he chose to bear his children."

Balon had his doubts deep in his heart if Theon had ever chosen her but this wasn't the time to say anything. Despite their estrangement he found he didn't have the heart to deny her request. She was the mother of his children and if he could make her happy in this small way, was it not worth it?

"Please, my Lord. In the name of the affection and respect you once had for me. I ask this of you. Let me see my son happy. Let me go with you to the Greenlands and see him wed."

He nodded, feeling a bit helpless in the face of her desperation and disliking the emotion. "We depart in a day and will stop at Harlaw on our way. You and Rodrik may join the fleet if you wish."

Her eyes filled with grateful tears. "Thank you." she took up his hands and kissed them fervently. Balon tried to withdraw them but her grip was strong, and she wouldn't let him go just yet. "Thank you, my Lord. Thank you, Balon."

"I must go, I have lingered here long enough. I am glad to see you are well, Alannys." he said gruffly withdrawing from her

He left her, lost in dream of reuniting with her boy at last.

####  **Winterfell**

Arya was hanging round the watchtower, talking to the guards and avoiding her septa when she saw one lone rider heading up the road to Winterfell. "Who's that?"

"-You've sharp eyes, little squirrel, have a look for us?"

Arya clambered up to the top of the watch tower and spotted the sable pennant floating behind the rider. The wind stretched it out revealing the golden kraken of the Greyjoy clan.

"She's here. She's coming." she said breathlessly as soon as she got back to the guardroom.

"Who is?"

Arya made an impatient noise. "Theon's sister! She's here about the match. She must have Lord Balon's response."

This was really happening. The appearance of Theon's sister made everything very real to them all. What if Lord Balon said no? They were all far too committed to withdraw now- the Lannisters would be furious if they knew exactly how things had gone. Balon Greyjoy had to agree to the match, he just had to.

"Someone ought to tell Miss Sansa and your father, I'm sure they'd like to know. And your lady mother will want to welcome our guest with all courtesy."

Arya got up from her perch, shaking herself reluctantly. "I will. Although I'm sure Septa Mordane will catch me and drag me back to my lessons."

 

"I'm here on behalf of Balon Greyjoy to see Lord Stark. Can you tell me where he is?" the woman said as she was stopped by the gate. She took in her surroundings with keen assessing eyes.

"Who asks?" the guard inquired, looking askance at her rough leather jerkin and breeches. She hardly looked like a suitable ambassador for the Lord of the Iron Isles. In fact she looked more like a rough dressed urchin in salt-stained leathers than a lady.

As soon as he saw the smirk lifting the corner of her mouth, her resemblance to Theon Greyjoy was laid bare. "Asha Greyjoy, of Pyke. I have an urgent message for Lord Stark-"

"Lord Stark is expecting you. I shall have you announced forthwith."

"Good." She strode confidently into the castle without another word, cropped head held arrogantly high.

The guardsmen shook their heads as she passed, torn between admiration and bemusement at her bold and unwomanly ways.

"She's the spitting image of him. It gave me quite a turn." muttered Ser Rodrik.

"Of Balon?" a young guard asked

"Aye- and young Greyjoy as well. Pebble doesn't fall too far from the cliff with that lot, does it?"

Ned prepared to meet with Asha Greyjoy to negotiate the settlement for his daughter to marry Theon. Was the old buzzard merely being cautious sending the girl, or was he going to be difficult and play hard to get? The whole thing would fall apart if Balon refused to agree to the terms and allow the match. He was bloody-minded and proud enough to do it, and he had little love for the Starks as it was, after his rebellion and defeat . _I've offered him a great deal and Robert has matched it. But will it be enough?_

"Asha Greyjoy?" he cleared his throat to announce his arrival.

The girl took her long boot-clad legs off the trestle tale which he thought was probably best. Cat would have a fit if she'd seen that, but she was in the glass gardens tending her plants luckily and hadn't seen their new visitor. 

Asha gave him an impudent grin which reminded him so much of the boy once he'd settled into Winterfell and become a terror of the castle.

"Lord Stark-" he tried not to notice the insolence in her tone. _We need her co-operation. Her father must trust her judgement if he sends the lass to carry out his business._ /p>

"Shall we do this in my office, my lady? I'm sure you understand that time is of the essence and we have much to discuss and arrange-" 

Asha rose to follow him. "After you, my Lord." she said brightly.

Asha scattered sand over her missive before looking for a raven to send to her father. She'd had enough time to make her preliminary observations and decide what she thought of the situation.

You could see how desperate they were for her family to agree to the match. Stark and his clan must be frantic to get their girl married off as soon as possible. The arrangements were forging ahead with almost indecent haste. No sooner had they talked in his office, Stark had sent another raven to her father, asking him to consider his proposal.

What interested her was that Theon seemed to be making an effort to woo the girl. He danced attendance on her daily. Nothing was too ridiculous, no little task or request too humble for him to carry out under the indulgent eye of the Starks. 

She had wanted to laugh her head off the morning she'd discovered him in the females' solar. Theon listening intently as Sansa played on her high harp, regaling them with a rendition of 'Jenny of Oldstones'. The girl had a sweet enough voice, frail and girlish, delicate and youthful and sweet as spring honey.

Asha leant back in the doorway, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Her mouth twitched with amusement as she regarded the scene in front of her. Sansa came to a stop, her fingers hovering over the strings, harmonies still ringing in the air.

"My Lady Greyjoy?" her voice was polite but chilly as she turned to their visitor. Asha suspected that the girl didn't know what to make of her prospective good-sister, but her politeness forced her to be civil against her own judgement. 

"What's this, Theon?" Asha smirked, starting to laugh at the wary looks on their faces. "I never had you down as a music lover?"

He scowled at her, not appreciating the mockery in her voice. "I'm just spending time with my betrothed, there's nothing wrong with that, is there. Sister?"

"Nothing at all...You are certainly keen, aren't ye? Quite the attentive suitor-" She spotted an end of ribbon protruding from the bottom of his doublet and gave it a playful tug. Theon attempted to stop her, twisting away from her, but she was too swift for him, grabbing the end of ribbon and pulling it out. 

"What are you doing? Stop that!" he snapped.

It was far too easy to get to him. She danced out of his range, ignoring his annoyance and attempts to regain his prize.

"What is this?" she teased, enjoying the way he gritted his teeth and scowled far too much. "Why are you so very defensive, brother? It's just a little trifle, isn't it?" She took it out and examined the ribbon, running her fingers along the black silk and the embroidered krakens decorating it.

"Give it back!" he snapped, making another unsuccessful grab at it.

"All in good time, once I've had a good look at it?" Asha teased.

The girl had an odd look on her pretty face as she registered what the Greyjoy siblings were squabbling over, half embarrassed and half pleased. "Theon? You kept it?"

He turned to the girl, focusing his attention on her. "Of course I did. You gave it to me, didn't you?" The girl actually beamed at him. 

Why was he so keen? Asha asked herself. Did he actually care for the girl or was he so intent on getting back to the Isles and displacing her as heir that he cared not what price he paid? She would have to watch him most carefully, she saw that now. She had no idea that lad was so eager to get home to the Isles - or yet so ambitious. She would have to keep a close eye on him, that was for sure.

She couldn't honestly object. The couple did actually seem to like each other. She'd seen the adoring way Sansa had looked at her brother, all big blue eyes and shy smiles.

Fancy Theon being so sentimental to keep her favour close, like some ridiculous tourney knight! That has got to be Sansa's influence. The defensive way he clung to that bit of embroidered ribbon, the hectic blush on his face as she seized upon it and he tried to get it back from her. 

The silly little goose probably thinks he's dashing, dark and handsome. If he's plying her with his charm and his silver tongue - so like his uncle Aeron in his youth from the tales she heard whispered in the taverns- Sansa could easily have had her head turned. That bit of business with the favour was cleverly done, even if the lass didn't see it herself, calculated to appeal to her sentimental heart.

She would say something for the Old Wolf- he was remarkably clever. By insisting that Theon woo his daughter and win her heart he was eradicating any objections to the marriage. It might not have started as a love match but it was starting to develop that way. Her father would look most unreasonable if he were to refuse Lord Stark's request. 

It might be worth tackling the girl, finding out what she knows.

"I wondered why your father was so keen to have you married off to Theon? Did he dishonour you or something?" Asha asked, probing for the truth. "He stayed here for long enough."

Sansa blinked in affronted dignity. "I am still a maiden, if you please, Lady Greyjoy. Your brother hasn't touched me." 

Her cheeks flamed pink and Asha wondered just how much truth there was to that statement. She wouldn't have credited him with having so much self-control, if she were honest.  
A Greyjoy that didn't at least attempt to get into a lass's small-clothes as soon as he were able? Asha was somewhat sceptical of the younger girl's claim but she wasn't going to argue it now. She cocked her head, and looked at her askance.

"It's true!" Sansa's voice squeaked in outraged propriety. "I do not lie!"

Asha shrugged, losing interest in baiting the girl."If you say so-"

"I do." she insisted, her eyes fixing her earnestly. "Theon hasn't touched me. He won't do that, not until we are wed."

"Then why does he want to marry you? Excuse me for being so candid but I can't work it out?" Asha asked.

The girl blushed and lowered her head. "Tis Politics. His Grace and my father want peace with yours. His Majesty suggested the match and my father agreed with him."

"-and you are the sacrifice." Asha's voice was almost pitying. "Poor girl. I bet you had hopes for so much more, and now you're given to a bunch of 'crooks and raiders'! You know he'll have you on your back with a child in your belly before the year is out?"

The younger girl bristled at her pity, ignoring the casual insult. "I have agreed to marry your brother, and I am happy to do my duty." she remarked. "As for anything else, that is between your brother and I. For what it's worth, he is kind to me, and that is what I require and more than I hoped. Good day to you, Lady Asha." she swept out of the room, head held high like a princess of the realm.

_These Stark with their pride!_ , thought Asha she headed out shaking her head as she went.

She kept her ears open and heard the talk of her younger brother's amorous exploits, including the rebuke he'd earned from some harlot who'd had the effrontery to come here and berate him for abandoning her for a decent match. She would have given a great deal to see that, thought Asha with a dark dash of amusement. He'd certainly cut a swathe through the serving maids of Winterfell, that was for sure.

Asha wondered whether Sansa was telling the truth. She may not have wanted the union- she could believe that- but why would she accept her father and King Robert's scheme? What was she so afraid of, that Theon was a viable marital option?

Asha hung round the kitchen where the guards took their evening meal. She wanted to hear the common man's opinion of this union. Perhaps they'd seen something that she had so far failed to take into account.

"Greyjoy must have the luck of the damned." said one retainer as he sat by the hearth. "With one stroke he made his fortune."

Asha slid into the shadows, keen to be unnoticed. She noticed that they spoke about him with familiarity but little respect, like he was one of them.

"Aye, marrying far above his station... Sansa was fair enough to have anyone she wanted. Anyone! And yet she marries Greyjoy as soon as Lord Balon stirs his stumps from his rock and makes his way here." 

"She didn't want just anyone though, did she?" rejoined the other woman. 

"She needed someone who would protect her from that Joffrey." She heard the unmistakable sound of someone spitting on the floor in contempt. "-Say what you want about Theon, he'll protect what is his. Anyone can see they adore each other now. I'll give 'im his due, he wooed her fair and square. I think she even forgave him about the Ros debacle."

"What did I tell you? Luck of the damned, I tell you!"

"His Grace seemed to think it could be the start of a new peace, giving House Greyjoy another chance. After all, what is it they say: When you force a man to bend the knee, you should help him up again. An heir that is obligated to us could be very useful."

Asha frowned. _Obligated? Oh, is that Stark's game? A puppet prince for the Isles? She would certainly include that juicy titbit in her report to Father!_

"They don't deserve another chance. Crooks, liars and thieves the lot o 'them!" said one man. "They should have hanged every single one o' them from the tops of their towers."

The girl is better off without Prince Joffrey. Lord Stark knows the game he's playing. If the young lady can bring peace to the Isles and the North, the possibilities are endless. She'd be a true heroine then."

Well this was a turn-up for the books! The girl had the chance of marrying the Crown Prince and becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms but they were all so desperate to spare her from that fate that Theon of all people suddenly became a viable prospect. Joffrey must really be a piece of work.

What on earth was Theon going to do with this milk-and -water miss? Asha's lip curled as she thought to herself of her brother's prospective match. If he wanted to return to the Isles and make a good impression on the subjects he would need a consort strong enough to stand by his side. 

This Sansa Stark, slender and delicate as a reed, fair as a sunset, prim proper and pretty looks as if she would blow over in a stiff Pyke breeze. Perhaps there is more to her than meets the eyes at first glance.

She tied her message to the Raven's leg, setting free on it's flight.

_Go, raven fly free and find my father. The die is cast; the game is afoot_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * It's good to return to this, I have to admit. Thanks for your patience during Nanowrimo.
> 
> * We get the introduction of Surprise!Renly and finally we start to see exactly what Robert's motives are. Yes, he does actually have a plan of sorts!
> 
> I also like fic where Renly does actually do his job as Master of Laws so that's going to feature. 'Cos let's face it, Robert and Ned are going to need all the legal help they can get with this match.
> 
>  *I think I enjoy writing Grouchy!Balon way too much.

“D’ye know when they going to arrive?” Jon asked his father as he joined him in his solar. 

Ned was examining some letters from his bannermen. He sighed wearily, pushing back his hair from his face. He looked weary and strained by what he had read. Jon hoped that his neighbours and bannermen were not giving him too much trouble about the proposed match. As quiet as they'd tried to keep the news, word was leaking out and everyone had an opinion on Lord Stark's daughter and her surprising match.

The whole household was on edge at the prospect of the arrival of the Greyjoy party. Balon Greyjoy was a notoriously difficult customer and Ned hadn’t forgotten his bitterness at having been defeated by him and having to give up his last remaining son to his enemy.

Now Ned was inviting him into his home and giving his daughter away, linking his family permanently with theirs. He sighed, fielding letters from several of his bannermen about the proposed match. He couldn’t blame them for being concerned. Maege Mormont had politely written to him asking him to reassure her that he wasn’t going to start condoning Iron-born raids on their territory. He’d just received a faintly insolent letter from the Karstarks asking whether he had lost his mind in a veiled fashion.

“Where are they landing?” Jon asked his father.

Ned rubbed his face. “Seagard, by all accounts. The fleet has been sighted off the coast. I would say twenty to thirty ships. They're flying peace colours, as we requested.”

“Perhaps we ought to send them a small honour guard just to make sure there are no incidents on the way here.” Jon said. The last thing that Ned needed was complaints from his bannermen about the Iron-born pillaging the way to the castle, especially when they were going to become part of the extended family. That was an embarrassment he really did not need. He groaned and cradled his head in his hands as he realised that he would be responsible for their good conduct whilst they were on his territories. 

_Robert had better know what he is about with this match, he thought to himself darkly._

“I’ll go, my lord.” Jon offered, seeing his father's stress and seeking to alleviate it. “One of us ought to be there to greet them. Just in case.”

Ned looked at Jon appreciatively, smiling at Jon in approval. “Take five of our most trustworthy men. Make sure you keep an eye on them. I knew I could trust you, lad.”

"We'll depart as soon as I can assemble the men, my lord." Jon bowed and exited the room.

Balon was not surprised to find that the Northerners were ready and waiting to meet them as they docked at Seagard. He could sense their distrusting stares, their barely concealed dislike of the newcomers. 

_The Old Wolf probably doesn’t trust us an inch. What does he think we’re going to do, raid and rob our way to his castle? Does he take me for some kind of crook and fool? Still, it was a wasted opportunity-_ he could see the crew’s assessing glances as they took in their green and prosperous surroundings. All these riches, ripe for the plucking but they couldn’t touch an inch of it.

“Couldn’t we just?” said one of the younger member of his crew, a Codd, if he remembered right.

“No. No one touches anything.” He snapped, trying to suppress a wince of pain. He must not show any sign of weakness and he would not resort to the supplies of pain-killing herbs he had managed to acquire under the table from one of the traders come back from their voyages across the Narrow Sea. _No one must know, not even Asha._ The pain was not putting him in a good mood though, and everyone was feeling the effects of Balon’s pain.

“Don’t you see our honour guard?” he said with a snide curl of his lip. “We’re to be on our best behaviour, lads.”

Jon rode up, jumping off his horse and greeting him with courteous words and faintly distrustful demeanour that revealed what he really thought of their new guests. Balon narrowed his eyes. What was Stark doing sending his bastard to greet me? Was this some kind of a subtle insult? Where was his lad? You would have thought that he would be here to greet his long-lost father after all these years.  
He hadn’t realised that he had said it aloud until Rodrik and Jon exchanged an awkward glance, almost as if Rodrik was trying to apologise silently for Balon's ill-temper. Jon said nothing, although his mouth pressed into a line. 

“Theon is back at the castle ready to receive you with my sister. My father wanted them to greet you together.” was all he said, not rising to the bait of Balon’s bad temper.

Rodrik hastened to intercede, before the situation escalated into conflict before they had even gotten to Winterfell. “My lord Balon, Stark means you no disrespect. Let us not forget their ways are different from ours."

By his side Alannys was practically vibrating with energy at the thought of being reunited with her beloved boy after all these years. He wanted to tell her not to get her hopes up, but Rodrik had quietly drawn him aside on the voyage and asked him not to disillusion her just yet. “All she’s had to live on are hopes and dreams. Let her be happy for a while at least. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I suppose I could. Just this once-” he said grumpily concentrating on controlling his mount.

As the party arrived at Winterfell and were admitted through the gates, Jon hid a sigh of relief. Well, that was an uncomfortable journey! Balon obviously had little love or trust for them even though he had pretty much accepted his father's and King Robert’s proposal. His mean dark eyes scanned the walls, mouth pinched and sour as he took in his surroundings. He was nothing like Theon, none of his mockery and sharp arrogant smiles. He was evidently going to be as grouchy and difficult as possible. Gods help them all!

“May I present Lord Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Isles, Lord Rodrik Harlaw and Lady Alannys Harlaw Greyjoy.” the herald announced.

Cat stepped forwards to greet their guests with her usual warm manner. She gave them a gracious pleasant smile, attempting to make their new guest feel at ease in their home.

“Welcome. We are so glad you could make it. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

Balon looked down his nose at her, scarcely deigning to reply to her polite words. He scanned the line for his lad. What would he be like now? He’d left a mewling boy, weak and easily dominated by his elder brothers. His mother’s favourite- Alannys had mollycoddled him dreadfully, letting him take refuge in her skirts and spoiling him. Theon stood, chin up and ramrod straight to attention.

"My lord Father-" he gave him a respectful bow which made Balon's nostrils flare in irritation. He didn't want any lad of his bowing and scraping like a Greenlander. Cat beamed at him, obviously approving of his servile ways.

Balon felt his lip curl as he inspected the lad. Velvets and fine wool, fine leather boots. He knew it. The Starks had spoiled him, made him good for nothing! If they had made him into some preening Southron tourney knight, he and his party were getting back on their ships and heading home, alliance be damned!  


Contenting himself with a disapproving sniff, he turned his attention to the girl.

The boy hadn’t done bad for himself- not at all. The lass Theon was clutching the hand must be Ned Starks’s eldest, the one they were all eager to marry off to his son. Pretty, like her mother with that fire-kissed hair, big blue eyes and shy smile. Didn't seem to be anything wrong with the lass at all. She didn't even seem to be with child, which was the only reason he could think of for the Stark's enthusiasm for the match. What was going on here?

Asha stepped forward with her usual grin. "Father, you arrived!"

He softened just a little at seeing his daughter in these strange environment. "Aye, twas a bit of a rough journey. I brought your mother." he added as her eyebrows raised in surprise. "She insisted on it."

"Mother-" Asha bent to give Alannys a dutiful kiss on the cheek. "Tis good to see you. Did you not find the journey long? Hullo Nuncle Rod!" she smiled and saluted smartly. 

Alannys stood behind him unable to take her eyes from her long-lost son. It was as if there was no one else in that courtyard but him and her. She gazed on him with hungry eyes, taking in his every feature as if she would never be sated.

"My boy-" she breathed, her eyes filling with tears.

Theon took an unconscious step forward, as if he couldn't help himself. "M-Mama?"

It was so strange to hear Theon falter. at the sight of her. Theon the confident and arrogant, sharp-tongued with a quip for every occasion. Sansa looked at him catching the strangely vulnerable look on his face, just a flash but she got it. She squeezed his hand gently, letting him know she was here for him and by his side.

Alannys clung to him, uncaring of decorum and dignity. She lavished kisses all over his face, every inch she could reach, sobbing frantically. Balon looked as if he were about to drag her away, but a look and a restraining hand from Rodrik stopped him. 

"My boy...I never stopped loving you... not for one second. You're a man now. I can't believe it-" Alannys dissolved into sobs, clinging to Theon as if she would never let him go.

Theon stroked her faded hair with a tender yet awkward gesture, unsure how to deal with her outburst of intense emotion. "Shush Mama. I'm here now. Shush-"

She looked up at him with watery eyes, a wobbly smile on her face. "You're so tall and handsome, like your father. You have his nose and his cheekbones."

"Please don't cry-"

She beamed suddenly, the years and care melting from her. the happiness coming off her like heat from a fire. "Tears of joy. I never thought this day would come. And you're to be married as well. Let me see her. Let me see the lass you're going to wed."

Sansa stepped forward, her cheeks damp with sympathetic tears. Very few could have watched that reunion and fail to have been moved by it, least of all someone with Sansa's tender heart. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady." she said with sincere politeness.

Alannys grabbed her by the shoulders and stared her right in the eyes with a burning intensity. Sansa allowed her to look her fill. 

"She's lovely. Just like a vision- and you love her, do you my son?" she said in awe turning to her son. Theon nodded, his mouth pressed tightly as if trying to suppress his emotion and keep from breaking down himself. "I care for her. A great deal-" 

Alannys took a deep breath, gradually trying to pull herself together after her emotional outburst. " I'm sorry. I'm not so out of control usually. It's just that I longed for my lad for so long." you could hear the desperate longing in her voice still. 

Cat looked at the other woman with understanding. _There but for the grace of the Gods go I._ she told herself. She gave her a reassuring smile. "Please don't trouble yourself. Now, I'm sure that the cooks have prepared lunch and I'm sure you're hungry and weary. Shall we go to the castle?"

Balon stomped round the castle looking askance at everything. Nothing pleased him, not the humble quarters he and his party had been assigned, not Cat’s stilted and awkward attempts to make him feel at home for Theon and Sansa’s sake, or Ned’s humble politeness.  
He seemed determined to bring a dark cloud to everything he touched or came into contact with.

“I am trying. I am trying so hard and yet he does nothing but grouch and complain about everything.” Cat said in utter exasperation a couple of days before the ceremony. "Seven help me, how does anyone live with him?"

How can one man have so many complaints? If it’s not his quarters, it’s his bedding or the food doesn’t agree with him. I swear he lives to pick fights with our staff.”

“Cat?” Ned was surprised at how peevish she sounded. Normally Cat handled the running of the castle and entertaining with aplomb. Balon and his carping must be really getting to her.

“I’m at my wits’ end with him, Ned, I swear it.” She scowled. "If he isn't careful, he's going to end up wearing breakfast, and serve him right!"

Ned noticed his wife’s stress and sought to comfort her. “I know. You are not at fault here. No one could have done more than you to make him welcome. I know that, Cat.”

“What am I going to do?” Cat fretted. “He is going to be our in-law soon. How will Sansa fare with him?”

Ned hoped he wouldn’t be cruel and petty to the girl. Sansa was biddable and eager to please and he didn’t want Balon - sour old crow that he was - to take advantage and speak sharply to her. 

“We’re going to negotiate in the afternoon. I’ll take him aside and talk to him. I won’t let him bully our girl, I promise.”

“And what about Theon? Is he going to stand by her?” It would be a very lonely life for Sansa if he wasn't prepared to back up his wife in a conflict. Once again she was pleased that Septa Mordane had volunteered to join Sansa in her new home until she established herself and her new family. At least she will not be alone-

“He's fond of her, I think he will.” All the same, perhaps he'd better have a discreet word, or perhaps Robb could. Just to make sure things were absolutely clear.

"I can't believe this is happening. Just a few days until our girl is wed."

"You're happy that we're having the ceremony here at home?" Cat asked him. "You're not sad we're not going to a Great Sept and doing it there?"

“I think we should have it here in the godswood under the sight of the Old Gods." Ned said. "-and it'll help with keeping things discreet."

Cat nodded agreeing with her husband. "I would feel happier and far more secure that way.”

What Cat didn’t say was that she didn’t trust the Iron-born to keep their promises to give Sansa to Theon as his true wife, if they had the ceremony elsewhere. The union would have to be consummated very soon as well, if they were going to foil the Lannisters and their plans for her daughter. She didn’t like the fact that they were still in the Northern territories, enjoying the hospitalities of the Manderleys by all accounts. It was still too close for comfort as far as she was concerned.

“Do you think that we are doing the right thing, Ned?” She asked him. “We risk angering the Lannisters once they find out what has happened. Joffrey is spoilt.”

It was something that had troubled Ned if he were honest but he had his orders from the king and he was bound to obey. Robert had hinted at other important reasons for his choice, and he was bound to obey him, no matter the cost.

“He has no claim on her. Only his father’s word and he changed his mind. We merely do as we are bid. Robert hasn't forgotten his scheme. He writes that he's sending someone trusted to act in his stead and they're negotiating a favourable deal for Sansa . She'll be well provided for...”  


Cat sighed, not convinced by her husband's words. “ We've taken a gamble. I only hope that you and Robert are right.”

****

## White Harbour

****

By the time Renly Baratheon had sailed to White Harbour and embarked off his unmarked ship, he was intrigued to know what Robert needed him for so urgently- and why he had urged such secrecy for this mission. All this plotting and arranging to meet here at one of Ned's most loyal bannermen's strongholds, Lord Manderley of White Harbour-  


_My brother is up to something but what?_ he asked himself. Loras was still packing their items away. He'd left him in their guest chamber with a kiss and a promise to spend a discreet night together. But first, he had work to do.

He'd heard rumours, scraps and mutterings from the Small Council that the Starks had unexpectedly called off the match between Joffrey and their eldest girl, who was reputed to be a promising beauty. 

Frankly, it could not have happened to a nicer boy as far as he was concerned. Maybe it was unfair to dislike his own flesh and blood so strongly the boy was an unpleasant piece of work. If the Stark had realised it in time and were willing to sacrifice their ambitions then he couldn't really blame them.

He was surprised that Robert was driving this plot. His brother usually left the intricacies of politics and rule to Jon Arryn and the Small Council, preferring to spend his days feasting, drinking and whoring but he'd heard dark mutterings from the king about Targaryen spawn from across the Narrow Sea. It was becoming quite an obsession with him, Renly thought.

“So you're here at last. Does anyone know you're here?”  


Renly had never seen his brother so on edge. He was like a cat trying to pad across a red hot furnace.

“I was as discreet as could be, brother.” he assured him. “Now are you going to let me in, or are we going to whisper in corridors like one of Lord Varys's sparrows?”

Robert waited for him to enter and locked the door behind them, looking round in a most agitated fashion. _What was this all about?_ the younger man could not help privately asking.

“Loras and I arrived in all secrecy. We even donned disguises all the way to Storm's End and sailed incognito all the way here.”

“You brought Tyrell here?” the king's voice rose alarmingly. “Are you out of your mind, Renly?”

Renly sought to reassure him before Robert started bellowing like a speared auroch. _He really was on edge, wasn't he?_ Renly thought.

“No one questions it. He is my sworn sword and my close companion.”

“Can you not make a move without him? Are you sure he won't go running to the Lannisters about our plans?” 

Renly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Really, Robert fussing like a flustered maester was amusing, but now wasn't the time to needle him. “He is loyal to me and knows nothing of what you desire. It would have been stranger if I had left him at home.”

“So you couldn't have left him at home for once?” Robert grumbled. “What are ye, joined at the hip?”

“Not without causing talk, my lord!” Renly started to sound a bit irritated. “Loras can be trusted, I vouch for him."

“This goes no farther, Renly, I mean it-” Robert decided to not cause a fuss, merely eyeing him with unspoken suspicion“-I am trusting you with something of utmost importance. Stannis thinks I am a fool, but-”

“Well he would , wouldn't he?” Robert had just said the one thing guaranteed to rile him. he could be reasonable about a great deal, but Stannis bitching and moaning was not one of them.

Robert talked over him, terse and harried. “D'ye want to hear why I called you up here or not, Renly?”

“Of course.” Renly subsided, pouting a little. If he sounded sulky, he didn’t care. Stannis complaining about him all the time, just because he was stuck being Master of Ships. Frankly it was annoying.  


He wasn’t just some dilettante playing at policy. He did actually do work on the Small Council. A damn sight more than Robert who was meant to be ruling the kingdom; instead of drinking, hunting and wenching himself into an early grave.

“Good.” Robert leaned forwards, fists on the table. “I have a bit of a challenge for you- as Master of Laws.”

_Now this was interesting. He wanted me in a professional capacity?_ Renly hadn't thought that Robert had thought much of his talents in his post. Seven knows he was always complaining about it.

“A challenge?”

“Aye, Ned Stark's daughter was going to marry Joffrey- but Ned and I have good reason to change our minds.”

Renly was pretty sure that there was a story behind this, but he knew not to interrupt for now and let Robert tell the tale.  


Whatever it was the girl had a lucky escape. His nephew was a malicious unrepentant little shite who managed to annoy and get the back up of every single person he met. It was the one thing that he Robert and Stannis actually agreed on.

"Can you believe the lad attempted to push her brother off the battlements? And he was planning to do a lot worse to her. After that you can understand why Ned happened to have second thoughts and luckily the situation happened to fit into my plans quite well.”

_Plans? He might have known Robert had an ulterior motive for his actions._

“What is it you want me to do?” he asked.

“I have arranged an alternative match for the lass with Theon Greyjoy. “

The lad must have thought all his name-days had come at once. The king taking an interest in his welfare. Seven knew he barely took an interest in anything else.

”Aye, we're going to make House Greyjoy an offer they cannot refuse.”

_By pelting them with gold, it seems-_ Renly thought.

“I have arranged an alternative match for the lass with Theon Greyjoy.”

“The Greyjoy boy. Isn’t he Ned’s ward?”

“Aye, we’ll release him if he fulfils his part of the bargain and takes her out of Joffrey’s way.”

_And in return, he's obligated to you. I see how it is. But do you really think he'll keep his promises?_

“Ned and the girl have agreed and he's wooing her as we speak. As soon as Balon assents we'll have the couple wedded and bedded, in a matter of days hopefully.”

“Bit of a come down for an ambitious high-born maiden, isn't it? Why would you give Greyjoy such a boon? Why the dowry Ned could offer is enough to double their incomes!”

“And we're going to match it.” Renly did not like the sound of this. _Robert seemed determined to make this happen by hook or crook. And what the devil did he mean by we?_

“Yes, we're going to make House Greyjoy an offer they cannot refuse.” He slid a parchment across the table for Renly’s perusal.

“That’s what I’m offering 'em, there’s some special provisions that I’d like you to push through while you talk to Balon, so the lass has some property in her own right. Ned insisted on it.”

Renly scanned the parchment, raising his eyebrows at the amounts involved. Robert must be desperate to get Balon to accept. This was a fortune he was offering them! 

“Why are you so desperate to gain their favour? Didn't you and Stannis say they were traitors? You infiltrated his castle killed his sons and made that proud old buzzard bend the knee. He's hardly going to look favourably on you?”

“I need him.”

“Need him? Need Balon Greyjoy and the Iron Isles for what exactly?"

“Need his ships and their naval expertise, more like. Those bastards are the best sailors in the realm, more's the pity. We need some of that.”

“Robert, you and Stannis burnt half his fleet.” Renly reminded him before he got too carried away. “Balon is never going to just let us have his greatest advantage. They have nothing else.”

“Ah but it's not Balon we're going to have to deal with.” Robert interjected. “- I have it on good authority that Balon Greyjoy is dying.”

Now this was something new, Robert wasn't just acting on a whim. Renly wondered whether Jon Arryn and Robert had truly come up with this plot. “ Dying? The old buzzard?”

“Cancer or some such thing, anyway he has not long to live, a year maybe two at most.”

“How do you know this?” Renly asked suspiciously. “There's been no word of this through the realm?”

“I have my sources.” that was interesting. Varys's little birds had spread their reach to the Iron Isles. That must be a dire posting! Do the Iron Islanders even know that their lord is dying?

“I want you to attend the wedding and befriend the young couple. You're a couple of years older than the lad, and you're good at all that charming and glad-handing people, aren't ye? 

Renly was ready to protest that just because he got on with people from all walks of life it didn't mean he was frivolous. He knew the importance of getting other people on side and creating rapport- a gift somewhat lacking in his brothers.

”It's important our relationship with the younger members of the family is positive that way when the Targaryen bitch crosses the sea with her Dothraki screamers we have a deadly experienced fleet ready and waiting to crush her and throw them back into the sea where they came from."

“Doesn't he have a sister? Asha, or something like that? I hear she has control of several ships. “ Renly remarked.

“Aye, you'll meet her at the wedding, no doubt. See if you can start to get her on side. Ladle on some of that Baratheon charm of yours.”

Renly was sceptical this would work, but he'd try it if Robert wanted.

“Do you think this is going to work?” he asked his brother cautiously. “Can you not just strengthen the fleet? Build some more ships?”

“We owe the Lannisters bushels of gold and once this palaver with Joffrey comes to light , we won't be able to rely on them. We need to make other arrangements.”

“If I know Cersei and the Lannisters they were pretty sore about the broken engagement. 

"Joffrey still wants her. Seems to have got it into his head that she's one of the few high-born maidens in the realm that's worthy of him.

“You think that they would mount a legal challenge to the match.”

“Aye, and that's where your legal skills come in. If the case comes across your desk , you're to reject it instantly and come to me. As a witness you'll have to make sure that the full requirements are fulfilled. Bedding and all. I want there to be no question about this match."

“You want me to attend the wedding.”

“Thought you'd like that. I know you like a good party?” Robert grinned.

_Not as much as you do, Robert._ Renly was very tempted to say. He held his tongue, though. 

“ You give the couple my wedding gifts and negotiate a decent marriage contract for the girl. I won't have her made a beggar at the mercy of those raiders. You'll have to impress upon them that they'll have to start changing their ways as well. Trade instead of reaving."

“Changing their ways? You're not asking much Robert?” Did he think that he was some kind of a miracle worker? If Robert thought the Iron-born were just going to abandon their reaving ways because you threw money at, he was going to be mistaken.

“I have every confidence, you'll get results Renly. “

“I'm glad you're confident, brother.” Renly quipped back.

“We need that naval defence, Renly. All joking aside. “ his brother turned as serious as he had ever seen him. “It may very well be that we'll need it soon enough. Ride for Winterfell before any of the court see you.”


	9. Chapter 9

Tensions ran high as the day of the wedding ceremony sped ever forward. Ned anxiously waited for the arrival of Lord Renly, as Robert's unofficial envoy. Once he was here, the wedding contract could be finalised by all interested parties, and the ceremony could go through - at last!

Balon was still being as unpleasant as possible to everyone around him. Ned didn't believe that he had said two pleasant words to anyone since he had arrived. He had been forced to step in and have a firm word after he'd managed to reduce two of the maids assigned to attend him to tears.  
 _The ceremony cannot come soon enough, even though I will be sad to see my girl leaving home and starting a family so far away. Balon Greyjoy would drive the Old Gods themselves to drink!_ Ned told himself.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be wed, so soon. To Theon!” Jeyne said as she stitched away happily by the fire. “How things have worked out!” 

"They have, haven't they? I can't believe I was so reluctant when his Grace suggested it." it seemed so long ago since that he commanded it. Everything had changed so much, she had to own herself content with Theon and their impending marriage. 

“Are you excited about moving the Isles with me?” Sansa asked Jeyne. It was a lot to ask, but she didn't know if she would be able to handle being there all by herself. She needed Jeyne and her easy companionship more than she would ever admit.  
“I admit that I'm a bit scared. I have no idea what to expect and they are an intimidating brood, aren't they?”  
Sansa had to admit privately that she agreed with Jeyne, but she had to be brave and swallow her fears.

_King Robert wants me to bring peace to our territories. I will be a heroine..._

Sansa was starting a new piece, an experiment on how to reproduce the kraken of the Greyjoy clan in a larger scale for a large wall-hanging to take pride of place in their new home. She was having some trouble with the intricately woven tentacles as she was using cloth of gold ribbon and it wouldn’t lie straight no matter how carefully she pinned it. She wanted it to look right; after all everyone would be looking at her when they married. She had to make a good impression.  
I hope the Islanders will not look down on me. They seemed to be a proud contrary race, despite their relative poverty.  
Her mother had told her not to take it personally if they did not take to her at first.  
“Their values are very different than ours. You are bound to see and hear things that you will find it difficult to come to terms with. You will need to be strong as I know you can be.” 

That sounded rather ominous. Sansa had no idea of what to expect from her new home and her betrothed's people. She'd sensed the animosity from them, and heard hushed tales of their ways and customs that had filled her with fear. 

_I cannot allow myself to be afraid. I have to be strong. Theon is relying on me to be a support to him._ she told herself.

“Your father asked Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole to go with you to your new home just to settle in, so you won't be alone.” Cat told her, “-and Lady Alannys said that she would welcome you to Harlaw when you please. She seems to have taken to you very well, which is always a comfort.”  
After that intense first meeting, Sansa made sure to make time for her new mother-in-law, inviting her to spend time with her and Cat. Alannys was still shy and a little vague but spending time with them was helping with bringing her out of her shell. The smile whenever anyone talked of her boy was enough to warm anyone's heart.

 

 

As she made her way back to the main hall she was accosted by Theon's uncle Rodrik with a cheery greeting. Sansa stopped to allow him to catch up with her and let him converse with her. He seemed like a kindly sort, far more welcoming and friendly than Balon Greyjoy who still looked at her out of the corner of his mean dissipated eye as if he didn't rate her as much. Mind you, he was exactly like that with Theon too.

_I cannot allow myself to take it personally. I will prove to Lord Balon that I can be a good wife to his son. A good lady of the Isles. I can make him happy, or at least I'm going to try..._

“Good day to you, Ser Rodrik. How 're you finding our home?” she asked politely.

"You've all been very kind and welcoming. My sister and I appreciate it a great deal. Thank you for your understanding. Alannys, well..." his voice trailed away. "She did not take her son's departure very well, not after the loss of Maron and Rodrik. Theon was always her special little lad. She adored that boy with all her heart and soul- and I will admit she feared the worst. They tell some fearsome tales of Eddard Stark on the Isles. But your marriage has brought him back to her. You bring peace and healing to us all."

"She doesn't resent my father for... for-" Sansa faltered unable to finish her sentence. _For taking her only son from her._ The thought upset her, she'd never really thought of the other side of it. That Theon had a family who would mourn and grieve for him while he stayed at Winterfell and grew up with them.

"No, you must not think that, Lady Sansa, not for a moment." Rodrik reassured her, squeezing her hand in comfort.  


"His father stil resents mine, does he not? that's why he's been so hard to please since he arrived." she said in a msall voice, eyes downcast.

Rodrik gave her a sympathetic smile, encouraging her to meet his gaze. "There's no need to be dejected about it. Lord Balon is rather stubborn; you have to know how to handle him." he said, not denying it.

Sansa hoped that this was something she would be able to learn quickly. She didn't much want Theon's father shouting at her for the slightest thing.  


Balon will probably insist you live on Pyke as his heirs and close family, but you are always welcome on Harlaw and at Ten Towers. Alannys, my sister Gwynesse and I would love to see you as much as possible.” he smiled encouragingly at her. “I can't help but think you're going to be good for all of us.”  


“Thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of this.” she told with a sincere light in her eyes. "You're very kind, nothing like I expected you to be."  


“You're a good lass. My nephew is luckier than he knows. I only hope he appreciates you as he should.”  


It was a good feeling to sense she had allies by her side supporting her in her new life. Perhaps she would not be so alone in her new home. Even if Lord Balon would prove to be hard work to win over.

 

_This was going to be hard work,_ Theon told himself as he managed to get away from his father and his sniping at last. He idly kicked at a clump of grass heading back towards the castle.  
 _Had his father always been this cantankerous, or was it something that had developed over time?_

It was perfectly plain the moment that he laid eyes on him that Balon was unimpressed by his long-lost son. The older man didn't even trouble to hide it. 

How did he expect him to turn out? He'd been dragged here as little more than a boy. The Isles were nothing but a memory now hidden deep inside where none could touch them. He hadn't asked for any of this, to be robbed of his home and his birthright, so for Balon to blame him was mightily unfair. And worse than that- that minx of a sister had his favour and enjoyed rubbing it in his face, every single day, with barbed comments and sly looks to provoke his annoyance.

_I hope that they will not go out of their way to make our lives difficult one we return to the Isles,_ he thought. 

For the first time Theon realised that Robert's bounty was not going to come as easy as he'd thought. 

_What if they don't accept me? I am a stranger in my own homeland. And now I am responsible for Sansa and her well-being too._  
He'd never allowed himself to think of Winterfell as home, but to be honest it was all he'd known since boyhood. He'd grown up here, shared bread and meat with the family, lessons with Robb and Jon under the gimlet eye of their maester. His life would have been completely had he stayed at home in the Isles. He would have been different. And I would never have had a chance at marrying Sansa, not in a thousand years.  
 _What if they treat her badly just because she will be my wife?  
We're in this together, me and her against them all. Exiles from home I suppose. _

 

Ned was striding to the Main Hall looking harried, and deep in thought- preoccupied with a hundred things before the ceremony. He slowed his pace to catch up with Theon, who was dragging his feet making his way to his father's guest chambers. He couldn't blame the lad for being reluctant to feel the rough edge of Balon's tongue. That man would find fault with the Maiden Mother and Crone combined!

“My Lord Stark?” Theon bobbed his head fairly respectfully, letting him draw up beside him.

“Ah Theon, I'd been wanting to catch up with you for a while. Not long now, eh?”

“Aye, my lord.” Theon sounded a little unsure as if trying to work out what Ned wanted.

Ned gave him an odd look, part speculative and part sad. “You're going to be part of the family soon. My good-son. Who would have thought it?”

Theon wondered what Ned truly thought of the proposed match in his private heart. “I know 'twas not your will to marry me to Sansa. But I have tried to woo her, make her happy to be with me. I will try to be a good husband to her, my lord. If it's in my power to make her happy-” he found himself saying.

Ned interrupted his nervous chatter, “When your mother and father arrived, you said you cared for her a great deal. Is that true?”

It was embarrassing having to talk about his feelings for Sansa to her father; particularly as Theon was not convinced that Ned really approved of him for his beloved daughter.

“Aye my Lord, tis true.” he said looking him straight in the eye. "I have become very fond of her and I hope Sansa feels the same way."

Ned cleared his throat. “Jon mentioned to me that he found you two in the forest 'getting to know one another', shall we say?”

_I really should have a word with Jon. It's getting beyond annoying now, he's just going to have to come to terms that I'm on the verge of marrying his sister._ thought Theon more than a mite crossly.

“Nothing inappropriate happened, I promise you my lord. We were just getting to know one another when Robb and Jon appeared-” he assured him.

“Using your mouths, eh?” the corner of Ned's mouth twitched very slightly upwards. Theon was rather surprised; he had expected trouble from Lord Eddard once he'd found out about their woodland secret tryst. Even though he'd barely touched her, he still remembered with resentment being pinned against the bark of the tree by Jon and warned very clearly off. 

“Look Theon, lad, I was young once too. Just promise me that my Sansa will go to her bedding an unsullied maid and I will be satisfied.”  
 _As if Jon and Robb would let him get up to anything underhand._ thought Theon. They'd barely managed to exchange the odd secretive kiss, restraining themselves to spending chaste time together and hand-holding. Theon thought he was going to burst if Lord Renly didn't get here soon so they could have the ceremony. It had been years since he'd had to exhibit such self-control; it did not come naturally frankly.

 "I've not done too bad by you, lad have I? I know it's not been easy. Gods know I would rather it hadn't come to what it did, but-" Ned's voice trailed away uncertainly. it was the closest he had ever come to addressing the auroch in the room, Lord Stark taking of him as a hostage all these years ago.

Theon fidgeted, sharing Ned's discomfort of talking of things so close to the bone. "You let me marry your daughter. You owe me nothing. Whatever you feel you owe has been repaid." You in your own stern distant manner have been more of a father than Balon had ever been.

Ned sighed, partly in relief. "If only Lord Balon felt the same way..."

A dress? Asha’s face twitched as if she were going to laugh but she managed to control herself just in time.  
“Well, yes-” Cat nodded. “It is a very special day and I’m sure that you will want to look your best for your brother’s wedding won’t you, Asha dear? It's going to be a grand occasion and there will be quite a few of our bannermen attending as witnesses. We may even be blessed with royal guests-”

“Royal guests, my lady?” Jeyne said perking up with excitement.

“Your father mentioned that the king was sending his brother Renly to negotiate the ins and outs of the contract and present their part of the dowry. He has not forgotten you, my dear.”

“Should think not, seeing as it seems to be his idea-” Asha smirked. “Royalty, eh? I have a new pair of breeches, barely worn and trimmed with gold and I’ll polish my boots for the occasion. What more could anyone want?”

Cat looked as if that would not be sufficient by any means.  
Arya looked interested, perking up at once with a mischievous smile. “I wish I were able to wear breeches and boots to a wedding.”

“Arya, No!” Cat and Sansa both said as one, appalled at the thought.

“Don’t you get any ideas, young lady.” Septa Mordane intoned with a warning glare, her mouth pulled into a disapproving frown. “Your lady mother wishes all of us to make a good impression.”  
Arya scowled, seeing her chance of wearing breeches disappear by the second. “I bet it’d be a sight more comfortable than getting all prissied up in some dress! And Lady Asha will surely cut a fine figure!”

“I’m sure you want me to be comfortable, don’t you Lady Stark?” Asha’s eyes twinkled, as if she was enjoying needling the situation. She gave the younger girl a quick wink, amused by the spirit she'd shown. If only Theon’s bride could have had a drop of that!

“This is your sister’s big day and I want everyone to look nice, Arya.” Cat said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. “Have I made myself clear, young lady? Your dress has already been ordered and the seamstress will be fitting your dress after your sister, so do try and keep yourself neat!”

Arya sighed, knowing that she wasn't going to win this one. “Yes, Mother.”

“The seamstress is coming in the afternoon to take our measurements and talk about colour schemes. I was thinking white might wash you out a bit, but a pale cream would be eminently suitable for you and your hand-maidens. I won't have it said that this was some hole- in the wall ceremony.” Cat said to Sansa as soon as the other had left and they could talk in private. "We're very proud of you. You've handled yourself with grace. No one could have done more. I just wish-"

 "What, Mother?" Sansa asked, noticing the slight falter in Cat's voice. "What do you wish?"

Cat's eyes shone a little as she bit her lip. "I just hope you don't feel hard done by, with your change of fortune. Joffrey may not have been ultimately suitable but truth be told he was a prince and once day will be King. You might have been a queen and you walked away from that."

"Of course I did, Mother! After what he said and did to Bran, how could I have married him? He tried to harm my brother for defending me." Sansa said earnestly. "I am more than reconciled to my fate and my future husband, don't fret. Theon has been very kind to me, and he didn't have to be." she blushed prettily. "I own, I am very fond of him-"

Cat wished she had pressed her daughter for more detail on what had happened on those battlements and how exactly Theon had managed to persuade her to be so fond of him, but now was not the time. It was done now. They royal engagement was dead in the water, and it would stay that way. Once she was married to Theon, Sansa would be safe.

“More visitors from the South, Father!” Arya called as she passed her father. "Heading this way at great speed!"

Was it them at last? Ned sincerely hoped so. The anticipation had been getting to him, he had to admit, all the tension and pressure building up until he thought he was going to burst.

“Go have a look with Robb if you can spot who it is. It'll be good practice identifying sigils and Houses.”

 "Right away, Father. I'll be back in a moment!" Arya scampered away followed by Robb, slightly shaking his head at her exuberance.

“What do you see, Arya?” Robb asked as they peered expectantly from the watch-tower. "Be sure to get it right, 'tis very important."  
She peered at the banner spotting the yellow field and the leaping stags in black. “Baratheon. It's Baratheon! And Tyrell as well.”

“Which is?” Maester Luwin prompted her. 

“Gold rose on a green background." Arya said with more than a hint of triumph. "-but why would Lord Renly be travelling with a Tyrell?"

Without a doubt it had to be who they had waited for.  


"Aye, go and tell your father. The wait is over, thank the Seven!" Maester Luwin said , scarcely hiding his relief. At last he would be able to give Lord Eddard some good news.

"Father! Lord Renly is riding up as we speak." Arya said breathlessly. "Robb's gone to tell Mother and Sansa." 

Ned let out a sigh of relief. The king's brother had finally made it to Winterfell without being accosted by any Lannister forces and he'd brought his sworn shield and best friend with him. They were so close to pulling this off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having to divvy this up into smaller chapters as this is quite a long sequence. So first up, Renly and Loras cause a stir at Winterfell and Balon is a grouch as per usual!
> 
> Also Dagmar Cleftjaw makes an appearance as I love the way Theon was so fond of him in the books and I love the idea of him teaching Theon weaponcraft as the master at arms at Pyke and being called 'Uncle Dagmar'! <3

Theon was with Jon and Robb and the tailor being fitted for wedding clothes when a servant girl came rushing to the door to summon them. She knocked urgently causing the tailor to prick him with several sharp pins.

“Ouch!” Theon grumbled, scowling at the hapless man who apologised and grovelled most abjectly. “Watch it!”

“Sorry to disturb you m'lord but Lord Renly and his companion have just arrived. He's to meet with Lord Eddard and Lord Balon in the afternoon but he wanted to see you and Miss Sansa first.” she said, bobbing him a curtsey whilst her tongue ran on rather indiscreetly. “ 'E's causing a right stir downstairs. Such a fine figure of a man... So dreamy...I hope that I get to serve him and not that grouchy Lord Balon.” she stuttered a little as she realised her lack of tact in front of his son and heir. “-excusing yer pardon, m'lord Theon but your father is mighty fierce and not easy to please.”

“None taken, Venna-” Theon remarked dryly.

“That will be all, Venna-” Jon said, rousing her from her daydream of handsome lords.

“Aye, m'lord. Sorry.” she blushed as she scurried away back to her work.

“You'd better go, Greyjoy. Apparently he's come specially to see you and negotiate with your father in King Robert's name.” Jon said, struggling to get back in his garb.  
Theon sighed, stretching and rotating his shoulder after being freed of his finery. “Very well. You coming?”  
There was a muffled muttering that came from a heap of fabric.  
“What?”  
Jon's dark hair emerged looking dishevelled and flustered. “I'm not dressed yet.”  
Theon quirked an eyebrow, “Well you'd best get ready then. Royalty awaits-”

 

When they got to the entrance hall he was faced with two men dressed in the height of Southron fashion, shrugging off plush luxurious winter weight furs as they got off their horses. Theon caught himself admiring the cut of the tunic over the other man's broad shoulders, the bright golden amber colour the dyer had managed to achieve with the material of his doublet. He'd always liked and appreciated good clothing and this man's garb was flashy but well worthy of admiration.

“So you're the lucky man who's marrying Ned's daughter? I'm Renly Baratheon. Very pleased to meet you. “ his hand was seized in a strong enthusiastic hand-shake that near crushed Theon's hand as the stranger greeted him like a long-lost friend. “- the baggage trains should be arriving soon from White Harbour, but I thought we'd ride ahead and meet everyone.”

His long dark hair was tied back with a ribbon of golden amber silk to match the doublet. His fiercely blue eyes so like the king's gleamed with good spirits, confidence and more than a hint of mischief.  
Half the serving maids were edging into the room even though they had no business being there, attracted by the good looks and sheer charisma of the man. They all stared at him whispering and nudging each other, mouths agape or eyeing him with obvious lascivious interest and female appreciation.

“We'll talk later, after I've had a word with your father. This is my companion and sworn sword, Ser Loras Tyrell of Highgarden.”  
There was some thing about the princeling's companion that set Theon's hackles rising as soon as he laid eyes on him. It might have been the faint air of arrogance as he looked round at his surroundings as if he didn't think much of Winterfell or it's inhabitants. Or the soft tangle of golden brown curls setting off a face as fair as a maiden's with it's big honey gold eyes, pouty rose petal lips and long lashes.  
Even his sister, Asha had taken one look at him as she'd entered the courtyard and gazed at him open-mouthed for several long seconds.

“I'm Lady Asha Greyjoy of Pyke, Theon's sister. I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you.” she said with a winsome look and a sultry purr in her voice that had Theon frowning. What the hell is she playing at? He thought, eyeing her with suspicion. 

“I have the great honour of being Ser Loras Tyrell.” he said with an extravagant flourish and a lingering press of his lips to her wrist which made all the assembled girls swoon with it's elegance. “- it is a great pleasure to meet you, my lady-”

Theon was even more astounded to see her curtsey to Ser Loras as neat and elegant as any court lady from King's Landing. His sister, the bold captain of the seas acting like a demure court maiden. He really had seen it all now! And was she actually flirting with the arrogant popinjay? She was probably dazzled by that silver armour, all brightly enamelled flowers like a field in springtime. He hated to think how much that must have cost.

“What are you doing, Asha?” he hissed, grabbing hold of her arm discreetly.

She smirked at him as she prised her arm away. “Greeting Ser Tyrell and Lord Baratheon, 'tis only polite. Surely the Stark taught you some manners?” she answered with a twinkle in her eyes that boded trouble.

Theon was not remotely convinced. “I sincerely doubt Father taught you to eye up southron lords as if there were nothing more than bait.”

“Just because I have charge of thirty ships of my own and run my own trading ventures doesn't mean I can't act like a court lady if I wish it. Mother and Aunt Gwynesse did manage to shoe-horn some manners into me, you know.” She said airily taking no notice of his annoyance, while making sure she got in a dig about her greater experience compared to his.

Theon was not impressed. _Gods help us if Sansa ends up drooling over these two._ They're exactly the type she used to swoon over, all courtly manners and polished good looks. How could he fail not to be dazzled by them?  
She appeared wearing one of his favourite dresses, in soft heather-violet wool with tiny pansies trimming the neckline and sleeves.

“Sorry I was tardy, but I was in a fitting and they've only just finished-” she said breathlessly. Jeyne hurried behind her, stopping still and staring entranced by the newcomers with wide eyes.

 

Theon embraced Sansa warmly, kissing her with great enthusiasm. Theon was pleased to note that Jon looked positively boot-faced and even better there was nothing he could do about it!

She looked so lovely, her mouth pink and swollen from his kiss, cheeks flushed and rosy. How could they fail to be taken with her?

 

"Theon, we're in public! Honestly!" she teased softly even though she settled in his arms and sweetly returned his kiss.

"So this is your bride, Lord Theon. Why she's as fair as rumour claims her." said Lord Renly in admiration.  
Sansa turned to face the visitors, her attention pulled towards them by Jon's sharp cough.

“My lord? I don't think I've had the pleasure?” Sansa asked, all politeness.

“Lord Renly Baratheon of Storm's End. And you must be Lady Sansa Stark-” he bent over her hand; smiling at her so engagingly as Theon's arm lay possessively round her waist that she was basking in the warmth of the summer sun.

“My father said you were coming. We were waiting for you to arrive before the ceremony.” she dipped into a graceful curtsey.

"Most of the wedding gifts I bear are in the baggage train, but this one is especially for you, my lady. Ser Loras, could you hand me the saddlebags please?" 

Loras handed him a bag of brightly coloured and embroidered soft leather. He opened the stag clasp and handed her a package wrapped in green silk.

"I very much hope that you will do me the honour of wearing this at your wedding ceremony and that my gift is sufficient to do justice to your beauty."  
Sansa opened the bag and her eyes went wide with wonder. "Oh my! Theon, look!"

She withdrew a delicatly wrought silver diadem studded with stars made out of diamonds. They lay in the palms of her hands gleaming and glittering in the morning light.

"I'd hoped silver would go with your house colours. I got the idea from Ser Loras; his sister Margaery has one made out of yellow and rose gold fashioned into the most delicate and exquisite roses. She likes it very much."

Sansa looked up at him in awe at his extravagant present. "It's stunning, my lord. I don't know what to say...thank you!"

"There's some tiny combs here, so you can secure it in your hair and there's a catch so you can adjust it." Renly told her. "I included some silver and diamond hair clips for your handmaidens."

Jeyne gave a muffled squeal of pleasure in the background at the thought she would get to wear something so fine on her best friend's wedding day.  
"I'm glad you like your gift, my lady." Renly's smile was as dazzling as those fabulous diamonds. "I hope we're all going to be the very best of friends?"

 

Renly and Loras were seated by Theon and Robb at the midday meal. Theon got the sense that the two men were being thrown together with him for some purpose he didn't quite understand. Lord Renly was certainly very keen to gain his friendship, engaging him in conversation and asking him lots of friendly questions and laughing uproariously at Theon's own japes. He didn't seems very put off by Theon's faintly distrustful answers, smiling and quipping away as he ate with a hearty appetite. 

_I don't understand, why is Lord Renly so keen to be my friend?_

Theon didn't want to admit to himself that he was starting to enjoy his company a bit. For all his position as the king's brother, Renly was surprisingly down to earth with a line in self-deprecating humour and snarky quips that appealed to him.  
In fact Theon was rather surprised at how friendly Lord Renly had been to all his family: he had taken Lord Balon's grouchiness in his stride during their negotiations refusing to be offended by his father customary rudeness; spent an hour talking enthusiastically to his uncle Rodrik about libraries and books of all things which Theon had gladly left them to; and even charmed his mother Alannys leaving her beaming and blushing like a girl with a maidenly crush. He could have sworn he'd heard her giggle, which he couldn't believe his ears at.  
 _His mother giggling, smiling and happy?_

 

Balon was pretty displeased, scowling at the sound. He was about to barge in and complain when Alannys spotted him and waved him over.

“Balon, have ye met Lord Renly?”

He eyed the younger man with a suspicious eye, trying his best to intimidate him. "Aye, I have.”

“He's been so pleasant and friendly. Such a delightful man and so friendly to us.” Alannys beamed, gazing at Renly with starry eyes.

“'Tis a pleasure to meet all your delightful family, my lord.” Renly murmured with that mischievous twinkle in his eye as he turned his attention to Lord Balon. 

Balon ground his teeth, looking as if he'd swallowed something that'd rotted in pickling, dying to lash out at the impertinent popinjay. He'd thought his son was dandy enough but this Stormlander with his dazzling white smile and handsome looks; clothed in silks and furs, all charm, courtesy and wit was enough to make him spit. Theon was frankly enjoying watching him seethe away.

"Balon, please don't frown so, you know it gives you the megrim." Alannys said making his father gnash his teeth. "Shall we go in for lunch? i think Lady Stark's calling us over?"

 

More Iron Islanders arrived at Winterfell to support their lord and lady during their trip there. A certain amount of curiosity about this new heir who was returning to the Isles with his new Greenlander bride, acted as more motivation. Cat and the housekeepers were hard pressed to find room for them all.

“There's so many of them!” Cat said as she bustled about trying to organise meals and places for them.

Theon was in the hall, meeting and greeting the Islanders as they arrived. If he wanted to be acknowledged as the heir then they had to get accustomed to him. Sansa was at his side meeting and greeting as she felt it was her duty to support him and besides she wanted to meet these people she was going to live among and possibly rule in time. She wanted to make a good impression.  
A hale white haired man with a horrific axe-wound to the face greeted Theon slapping him hard on the back.  
When Theon turned to greet him, his face stretched into a wide smile, not his usual wry grin or the gentle loving smile that Sansa had started to treasure as her very own but a happy boyish smile, genuinely pleased to see this man.

“Theon, my boy!” the man said in a gruff raspy voice roughened by several years of salt-water and hard living. “I never thought to see thee again so well. 'Tis good to see yer!”

“Uncle Dagmar!” the two men clasped each other in a hearty embrace.

_This is one of his uncles?_ Sansa knew it was impolite and she chided herself inside but she had great trouble tearing her eyes away from that huge scar right in the middle of his face. His lips were bisected into four, baring slightly yellowing teeth.

“I were watching ye in the yard in the morning, lad. Still a little weak on the left side, but ye've got the balance of a cat, always did, didn't yer lad? And yer bow-work would bring a tear to the eyes of an Islander. Always knew you had it in yer. Yer remembered what I taught yer?”

Theon looked so pleased at the gruff praise, Sansa thought he would burst with pride. “On the exhale...of course I did, Uncle Dagmar.”

Dagmar ruffled his hair in an avuncular fashion. Theon almost seemed to blossom under his rough affection, beaming with happiness. “Good lad, by the Drowned God, it does me heart good to see yer, it does! All growed up and healthy-”

“Uncle Dagmar, this is my bride to be, Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell. She will be returning to the Isles with me once we are wed.”  
The older man examined her with keen searching eyes. Sansa didn't take offence at his stare; she'd worked out that the Islanders tended to be direct to the point of rudeness; it was just their manner. He was bound to be curious about her.

“She's beautiful. Gorgeous, even. That fire-kissed hair...Good figure, too. You love her do ye?” he asked spotting the way Theon's gaze wandered appreciatively to Sansa at his side. “Aye of course ye do. I can see it all o'er yer face. You 're mad with love for the lass as she is for you, and I dinna blame ye. You'll be trying for an heir soon, will ye lad?”

She blushed hot at the frankly heated glance Theon gave her and the very slight smirk that tugged at his mouth. "Behave yourself, Theon!" she reproved him gently under her breath.

"Nay lass, ye can't blame the lad for being keen to wed and bed yer, can ye?" he said with a roguish twinkle, before becoming more serious. "If you'll indulge an old man giving yer a bit o' unasked for advice, the lad needs an heir and soon. D'ye understand?"

"I will do my duty, I assure you-" Sansa said earnestly.

"Lord Balon had three sons and a daughter to carry on his line. Now he has only Asha who'll nay settle down just yet, and Theon. The Isles needs some stability and House Greyjoy needs a new generation and some fresh blood, ne'er mind all this nonsense about Greenlander girls."

Sansa understood what he was trying to tell her in his gruff way. She carried the hopes of a dying house on her slender shoulders. She could only hope the burden would not be too heavy.

 

Renly was suggesting a night out in Winter Town before the wedding and was attempting to persuade Ned that it was a good idea. Ned was not entirely convinced.  
“I was thinking as the wedding is in a couple of days, I could hire out the inn for a celebration for the groom. Just a jovial gathering among friends, some wine, some song a bit of feasting, can't go wrong there can ye?”  
Ned wasn't sure about this idea of Renly's. There was far too much potential for things to go wrong.

"Robert wants me to befriend the lad and I can't think of a better way than hosting a knees-up a chance for us all to relax and have some fun before the wedding. Don't worry; Loras and I will be there, we'll make sure that he doesn't come to any harm.”

_Robert must be very keen to gain Theon's good favour if he's ordering Renly to cosy up to him. I wonder why he is so important to him?,_ thought Ned.

“Why was Robert so keen to favour Theon. He never did tell me true.” he asked bluntly.

Renly blinked in surprise. _The lad knows,_ thought Ned in surprise. _Robert told him and not me and I'm giving away my daughter!_  
Renly paused obviously trying to be tactful and disliking the rather awkward situation he found himself in. “Robert has plans for the boy, and for integrating the Isles back into the realm. Let us not forget Theon is Lord Balon's heir.”

“But he will not rule for many a year. Lord Balon still sits on their Seastone chair and I cannot see him abdicating in Theon's favour any time soon.”

Renly had a slightly knowing smile on his face as he leaned forward. “When you first saw your adversary, how did you think he looked, Ned?”

Ned thought about it. Balon's face looked lined and grey, his body more stooped over and hunched in pain. One of his maids had stopped him in confidence and told him Balon was throwing up blood in the morning but the merest mention of it was enough to put their visitor into a towering rage.  
He wished Renly would say what he meant more plainly. These Southroners will ne'er speak plain, God's truth!

“He doesn't seem well, Renly. We're all getting older and it's a harsh life on the Isles.”

“Perhaps for once in his life Robert is planning ahead. You're an intelligent man, Ned. You put together what I just told you. I cannot break my brother's confidence, but put one and three together and see what you come up with."

"What are you trying to say, Renly?" 

"All I can say is; this is a marvellous opportunity for the boy and your daughter have they wit to take it with both hands. And I am happy to stand friend to both of them. She is the most delightful girl, isn't she? he said his voice lightening to less serious matters. "-very like your Cat with that wonderful red-gold hair and those eyes. He is a lucky lad."

"I hope you and Robert know what you're doing, Renly. Very well, have your night out in Winter Town. But you keep an eye on Theon and make sure there are no er... incidents with women, and Jon and Robb go with you." Ned told him. 

"Of course! They are both more than welcome to join us." Renly said smoothly as ever. "It should be a fun night all round."

_That should keep these young bucks out of trouble,_ Ned told himself as he and Renly drank up. He resolved to send Jory out that night to keep a discreet eye on proceedings.

Just in case.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the bachelor party! You know how the saying goes; the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Renly is about to regret proposing this revel as a night out turns into a messy scrap.

Theon was surprised by Lord Renly's generosity as he proposed a night out in town right before they had the ceremony. 

“It'll be immense fun,” Renly told Robb, Theon and Jon as he suggested his night of revelry for the groom before the wedding. His eyes twinkled with mischief and good spirits. “I've hired out the local inn for our own personal revel. We'll have a drink and a bite to eat, relax and get to know each other. What could be better than that?”  


Theon couldn't quite work out why Lord Renly - who in truth barely even knew him- was so determined to be his friend. His generosity to him and Sansa was breathtaking. That moment Sansa had revealed the silver and diamond diadem he'd given her...It was fit for a queen, and must have cost a fortune!  


Let alone the wedding presents from the baggage train, the deeds to the properties in Seagard and their new homestead bordering the Stony Shore he blithely handed over. An account with the Iron Bank in Braavos and contacts to start trading and improving their fortunes as a married couple. It was all overwhelming. What had he done to deserve all of this?  


It must have something to do with Robert. Theon had no doubt that the royal brothers had conferred on how to deal with him and Renly was merely the messenger.  


_Robert wants something of me, but so far he's confided very little. I wish he would tell me what he wants in return. Is it a price that I can pay?_

Ned caught up with Robb and Jon that morning before the morning meal and told them of Renly's plan. 

“Father, why are you so keen for us to go with Lord Renly and Theon on this revel before the wedding?” Robb asked bemusedly. “There's a great deal about this situation that I don't really get, if I'm honest. His friendship with Theon, and those presents he lavished on Sansa and Theon. Why is he so keen to be their friend?”

Ned frowned a little as if he wasn't sure quite how to answer his son.

“The king has his purposes, I would imagine. It is not for us to question his will. Besides, Theon will need you, his closest friends-” he said eventually. 

Robb caught his father's meaning. “You want us to make sure he doesn't get into any scrapes before the wedding, Father?” Ned nodded in relief. “Aye, d'ye think you and Jon can manage it?”

“Of course.”

“Well, we'll try-” muttered Jon.

“Jon, I can't help that you don't really approve of what's going on?” Ned observed. 

“Aye, I'd noticed it too.”

“I just don't believe that Theon has changed that much. Is he going to be a decent husband to Sansa?”

“They seem pretty much to be marrying for love at this point, Jon. He's bats about her, can't you see? Isn't it about time you started to give him the benefit of the doubt here?” Robb suggested to his elder brother.

“What's to stop him treating her badly as soon as they leave Winterfell?”

“Theon isn't a complete fool, Jon. He knows what's at stake and how much he owes his good fortune to this match. He's not likely to blow it.” Ned assured him.

Jon still looked a bit doubtful, but he subsided, contenting himself with dark mutterings against his rival.

“So you still want us to go on this 'Stag's night'?” Robb asked.

“It's not that I truly disapprove of Lord Renly's plan, but you're young lads and I don't want any trouble. Not just before the wedding when so much is at stake. I'd appreciate you boys being my eyes here-”

“Never fear Father, we'll keep Theon and Lord Renly on the straight and narrow, we promise.” Robb told his father earnestly. “-won't we, Jon?”

Asha accosted the members of her crew as she told them of her plans for the night. She was remarkably good at finding out information when it suited her and the moment she found out about the 'Stag's night' she made up her mind that her men at least were not about to get left out.  


“You want us to go out with this brother of yours? On this revel in Winter Town? We barely know him!” Qarl argued.

She wasn't troubled by their initial reluctance. Persuading them to fall in with her will would be child's play. 

“It's a night out on the Baratheon's coin. He's so keen to ingratiate himself with my brother and the rest of the family, he'll agree, you'll see.” she gave him a confident little smirk. “I'm sure he meant to invite us; it simply slipped his mind. Perfectly understandable mistake, ain't it?”

“I dunno about this, Asha-” Torold Goodbrother said, with a doubtful shake of his head.

“Are ye really going to turn your nose up at it? He's dripping in coin and begging to give it away. Baratheon is so damn keen to get in with my family at the moment, didn't you see how he swallowed my father's grouching? And he was all over Nuncle Rod and my mother. It was as good as a tonic watching him flirt with Mother, I thought my father was going to explode!”

“So why is he so keen to be your new best friend. A Stormlander like himself?” Qarl asked.

She shrugged. “He's doing it for my brother. His new close personal friend.”

“Aye, naught but a stranger for all his meeting and greeting!”

“We don't know him! He's nothing to us!” said another in a scornful tone.

Their words were gratifying to her she had to admit. Theon might think he could waltz back home and take her place as heir to the Isles, but it wasn't going to be that easy for him. He'd still have to work to be accepted by the other Islanders who didn't know him since he'd been taken as a boy after the Rebellion. _Not everything is going to fall straight into your lap, brother._

She gave Tris a long-suffering look. “'Course we don't. That's why we're going to attend this revel of Lord Renly's, aren't we?” “Got 'imself some mighty powerful friends, ain't he? Made himself a fortune and all because of this match. What does he plan to do?”

“Return to the Isles with his bride, I would imagine.” she remarked. “Don't you think it's our duty to attend and see exactly what my brother and the Storm Lord want?”

“Are they going to want us there, Asha? These Greenlanders make no bones of how they disapprove of our ways. A whole evening of them looking down their noses at us-”

“No call for it. We're Iron Islanders and worth twice those preening braggarts!”

“We're perfectly entitled to attend.” Asha told them, stirring them all up to her will. Her eyes gleaming with mischief. “These Greenlanders would exclude us from everything if they could and I won't have that. We're just getting into the spirit of things. What can be more welcoming than that?”

“What will Lord Balon say?” Tris fretted, still unsure about joining the revel.Asha arched her brow at him, her confident smirk in place. “My Father is preoccupied with other matters. He doesn't need to know the details, does he?”

“And your lady mother might object. You know she likes for you to act the lady?"

Asha managed to look almost innocent but none of them were fooled. “Why would you trouble my mother with all these petty details? Honestly, lads, it's not like you to refuse a revel? Where's your sense of adventure?”

“So looking forward to tonight, Theon?” Renly said with an enthusiastic smile as they sat down to the morning meal.

“Aye, 'tis very generous of you to do it. Thanks-”

Asha grinned as she eavesdropped on them, leaning over to help herself to more bacon fried with mushrooms and wild garlic. “The lads will really appreciate being invited out with the groom. It's about time they got to know my brother after all these years.” Her eyes narrowed as she aimed her parting shot. “-after all since you're planning to return home to the Isles with your lovely new bride, you'll want to make new friends there too, will you not?”

Theon glared at her. Trust her to try and make him look bad in front of his new friend. And like it or not, she had a point. Much as he hated to admit it.

“It says a great deal about you that you're prepared to be so open-minded about us Islanders. Most people tend to look down on us and call us thieves and crooks. But you've gone out of your way to befriend us, haven't you Renly?” Asha gave him her most charming winsome smile.  


Renly scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, too polite to correct Asha's mistaken assumption that she and the rest of the Ironborn were invited. He avoided Theon's nudges and Loras's raised eyebrows pretending to busy himself with breakfast. “It would be good to get to know Theon's new southron friends, would it not?” Asha said with a confident wink at Renly. “And I know we haven't had a chance to socialise very much as yet, my lord.”

“Renly, say something!” hissed Loras in his ear.  
“Maybe it would be best if she comes. Robert did say use any means to befriend them, and I need to win her over too. Robert wants the Isles and the Fleet...” Renly muttered back. “Don't worry, Loras, I know what I'm doing.”  
Loras shook his head, taking a drink of mild ale to wash down breakfast. “Damn, well I hope you know what you're doing ,Renly.”  


“I don't think it would be quite your thing, sister.” Theon butted in rudely, not wanting his sister hanging around and causing trouble. Certainly not during a revel! He had no illusions that she wouldn't run straight to Lord Ned or Sansa if anything happened and drop him right in it. She'd enjoy it far too much.  


She smirked at him wickedly. He cursed himself for walking right into that trap. She was far too good at needling him and now she knew all too well that she had the upper hand. “And why's that, brother dear? Terrified we're going to show you up?”  


“Asha-” he protested.  


“We're going to have a night out at the tavern. We'll be drinking, socialising and carousing before we celebrate your wedding to the Stark girl. Surely there's nothing wrong with that? You wouldn't begrudge us a night of fun?” She turned to Renly aiming to get him on side with another winsome smile. Theon felt a spike of resentment. _Renly was his friend! Why was she trying to muscle in on him already?_  


“What time are we all meeting in Town, my lord?” she asked.“We'd not like to be tardy, would we?”  


“Five hours after noon.” Renly said with more than a hint of reluctance.  


“We'll be there. Won't we lads?” she said sweetly, to her companions who gathered round, eager for some morning amusement and enjoying the breakfast laid on by the Starks. Frankly they were taking full advantage of the plentiful provisions and stocking up for the day.  


“Aye-” they chorused with jovial smiles and stuffed mouths. “Thank you Lord Renly!-”  


“-'e's not so bad really, for a Stormlander.” Torold remarked.  
“Should be a good night out.”  
“Looking forward to it. Haven't had a proper drink and a singalong in an age!”  
Theon shook his head, knowing full well there was no getting out of it now.“I really hope you know what you're doing, Renly.”

 

Theon sought out Uncle Rodrik who was talking to Balon in their apartments. His father scowled at him muttering darkly under his breath but Theon let it slide off his back. He had far more important things to worry about.  
“Father, Uncle-” he addressed them respectfully. “May I talk to you alone, Nuncle when you have a moment?”  
“What is it lad? How can I help you?”  
Theon took a deep breath, taking his courage in both hands. He dearly hoped that Rodrik wouldn't mock him as Balon or his sister definitely would have. “There's something that I feel must do at my wedding to Sansa and I need your help.”  
“What is it, lad? You know that we'll help you as much as able.” Rodrik reassured him, his tone gentle and soothing. The lad looked so nervous, so pale and nervy as if he were holding on to his courage. Whatever it was, it must be important to him.  
“It's a long time since I have spoken our dialect, but I have some vows I would like to say. After the ceremony-” he handed him the parchment. “-so that there is no mistaking my mind on this matter.”

Rodrik scanned the paper, eyebrows slowly rising as he read. “Are you sure about this, Theon? 'Tis quite a vow you propose to make here. These are words not lightly taken, my boy.” 

“I know. Will you help me?”

Rodrik gave him a long look, assessing his nephew as if seeing him anew. “Yes, lad I will. For your sake and the lass's too. You do a good thing here.”

By the time the party from Winterfell arrived in the town and reached the tavern, dusk was starting to fall. Theon thought it was best to ignore Asha who was still teasing him with no mercy at every opportunity. Did that woman never let up? She was the most provoking, insolent-  


When she wasn't prodding and poking at him, she was japing and flirting with Ser Loras and teasing Lord Renly, who seemed to take her with his usual good humour. Every time he heard his laugh at one of her japes Theon wondered whether she was poking fun at him.  


“Here we are!”  


The innkeeper met them at the door, greeting them with every courtesy. “Good evening, sers, we are very grateful for yer custom to be sure.” he looked slightly less happy to see the ironborn part of their group filtering in, giving them distrustful and suspicious glares, but after Renly pressed more gold into his palm his protest died down.  


“Is everything ready?”  


“You have the inn for the entire night.” the innkeeper assured them with a genial gap-toothed smile. “I've assigned a couple of ladies to attend you for the night and see to yer every need, sers. Dinner is nearly ready if you are hungry and the singers will be here in half an hour. I hope you have an enjoyable night at our humble inn-”  


“I'm sure we will-” Renly said warmly earning the inn-keeper's adoration as he shook his hand and smiled at him. “- and thank you once again for doing this at such short notice.”

 

Theon's face fell as he spotted Ros behind the counter. She gave him a cheeky little wave and a grin that spelt nothing but trouble. The cheeky minx was even wearing the silver locket he'd given her as a token of infatuation, he could see it winking and glittering in the light above her nearly bared bosom.  


“Oh Gods, look who's here!” he muttered to Robb. “Of all the people to run into!”/p>

Robb stopped dead in the doorway, mouth dropping open.  


“Oh boy, this is going to be an interesting night!” he muttered. “D'ye want me to deflect-”  


“It might very well come to that. The last thing I want is for Sansa to get upset after Ros barged up to the castle and made a spectacle of herself." _It took me long enough to reassure her of my affections after that stunt,_ Theon thought.  


Jon gave him a suspicious look, as if he suspected that Theon would end up in a messy embrace with Ros before the night was out. He still didn't trust him, did he? No matter how long and how chastely he wooed Sansa, Jon would never accept him as her husband. He was probably going to explode on the wedding night at the mere thought that he would be sleeping with his sister-expected to do the deed.  


There was a mean small part of him that wanted them to have the room next to his, but Lord Ned had told him that he'd stationed Renly in that room, presumably so he would confirm to the king that the wedding had been consummated.  


Asha was close by and overheard her brother's fretting. “So this is your former paramour?” she remarked, slipping into the conversation. “How interesting. I'll be sure to make pains to catch up with her!”  


“Don't you dare, Asha!” he hissed under his breath. _She was just dying to make trouble for him. Damn it, why hadn't Renly stopped her from coming here tonight?_ he seethed silently.  


“Dare do what? I'm just curious about what kind of man my long lost brother is, and who better to tell me than his paramour?”

Ros took one look at Renly and all thought of needling Theon for his desertion of her went out of her mind.  
“You're the gent who's forking out for the inn all night. They never told us how good-looking you'd be.” she said in her huskiest voice, eyeing him up and down with obvious appreciation of his fine figure and well-cut clothing. She arched her back, displaying her cleavage to fine effect and pouting shamelessly at him.  


Renly had a rather panicked look in his eye, but his natural charm and good manners kicked in.  


“My lady, you are far too kind-” he said smoothly inclining his head.  


She gave him a raucous throaty laugh and a squeeze in an intimate place which made his eyes widen in shock. “I ain't no lady, ser, but 'tis nice of yer to say it. I do love a man with manners who knows how to talk nice and dress.”  


She turned to look at Ser Loras who had a bit of a pout at her antics with his friend. She gave him a look from under her lashes, eager to draw him in. “Yer friend's just as pretty. Why 'e's near as pretty as me?”  


“Ser Loras Tyrell of Highgarden.”  


She didn't seem to catch the slightly unfriendly tone to his voice. “Ooh you'll have to tell me all about down south. I've always wanted to go seek me fortune there.” she batted her eyelashes at him, practically undressing him with her eyes, until she caught Asha giving her a dark look and scurried off. 

“Oh look there's Jory Cassel. Isn't he one of your father's men?” Renly said eager to change the subject before Ros started taking even more liberties.  


“Jory! Come over, have a pint or two on us!” Renly shouted raising his tankard.  


“Don't mind if I do, my lord.”the Northerner sat down and raised his pint in return. “Good brew, this-”

“Why were you acting so strangely when you saw the red-head?” asked Renly as Theon sat down with the second of his tankards of ale. “She seems sweet. A little over-enthusiastic perhaps, but-”  


Theon felt himself flush in embarrassment. “Er... it's a bit awkward.” he muttered. “We were well...involved. Before his Grace asked me to marry Sansa. Ros didn't take the news too well-”  


And that had to be the understatement of the year, surely- thought Theon, remembering the shrill scolding she'd dealt him. He still felt mortified whenever he thought of it, Sansa's raised eyebrow and cool tone as Ros had revealed their relationship and rebuked him for forsaking her. The pleading he'd had to do in the glass garden before his fiancee would forgive him.  


“Oh! I'm sorry, I had no idea you had history.” he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Is she always so erm... handsy?”  


“Aye, you got off lucky, my lord.” muttered Robb.  


“You're not going to slope off with the chit, are ye my lord?” Jory asked.  


“No!” Renly went red for a moment. “Umm..I'm suited, thank you very much.”  


Theon didn't doubt it. The way most females had reacted to him ever since he'd arrived at Winterfell bore witness to the fact. They simply couldn't help drooling over the pair of them, like they had never seen Southrons before. Admittedly they were good-looking bastards both of them. He might have known the ladies would react to them like bees to pollen. Even Asha seemed not to be immune from their charm.  
The bards arrived, setting up their instruments, and waiting to entertain the group as they drank. They were soon playing a rousing rendition of 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair' accompanied by a tipsy chorus of Northerners and Ironborn who were surprisingly enthusiastic singers and soon shouting out requests for bawdy raucous songs like 'Fifty-Four Tuns and 'The Dornishman's Wife'.  


“They're quite the party animals, aren't they?” Jon commented as he came back from the bar with another round for the table.  


“Aren't you boys up for a dance?” Asha smiled as she approached their table. She perched confidently on the edge.  


“My lady Asha! Are you and your men enjoying themselves?” Renly said with another of his genial smiles.  


“Aye, it's been a good night so far. Thanks for inviting us! I have to admit it, but the boys don't think you're that bad, y'know-”  


She caught Ser Loras by the hand, pulling him up from his seat. “Let's see how you lads dance in Highgarden, eh!”

Loras attempted to weakly protest but she was having none of it. "That is: if you can keep up with us?"

Asha had cleverly managed to locate his competitive streak. He impulsively stood up and looked her right in the eye. “Ready when you are, my lady. Lord Renly, are you joining us?” 

Renly shook his head, affectionately rumpling his silken curls. “Go and enjoy yourself Loras. I'm just going to finish my pint and talk to Theon for a bit.” 

Renly shook his head as he watched them dance, an indulgent smile on his face. For a moment his eyes followed his companion almost fondly. They seem to be fast friends, do they not? thought Theon.

“Your sister really is one of a kind, isn't she?” Renly said, shaking his head ruefully.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Renly leaned back in his seat, wiping the froth from his pint from his mouth, almost as if he were expecting Theon's questions. “Ask away.”

“Why are you so keen to be my friend, Lord Renly? What did your brother tell you about what he wanted?”

Renly gave him a keen look and sighed. “My brother really didn't tell you and Ned much, did he?”

“Not that I'm complaining. I know how fortunate I am to benefit from his open-handedness but tell me Renly, what does he really want with me?”

“Your father, does he... well...” Renly hesitated. “-does he seem well to you?”

Theon thought about Renly's question. His father did look strained and grey. His temper was far worse than he'd remembered. Balon had never been an easy man to live with, but he was being rude to a fault. He knew Catelyn was at her wit's end trying to keep him happy and the serving maids dreaded having to serve him. Even he, Balon's long-lost son hadn't been spared the sharp edge of his father's tongue. How Ned tolerated his father's bitterness and bile was beyond him.  


“No, lord Renly. No, he doesn't.” he admitted.

“Robert wants to integrate the Isles more into the kingdom. This isolationism isn't good for the kingdom and I daresay not for the Isles either. You have a real chance to make a difference, improve the lives of your people in a concrete way.”

Theon gave him a shrewd look. “If I scratch your back as Lord of the Isles-”

“-then none of your people need ever starve and scrape a living. You think you have little that the Isles was dealt a poor hand but you have resources and skills that can make your fortune if you wish it. All you require are funds and some contacts-”

“

"-And you'd do that for me?” Theon suspected that Renly was nowhere near as intoxicated as he appeared publicly. He couldn't help but feel that he was playing a game that Renly was only half telling him the rules to.

“Let me level with you. You're a bright lad and there's little point pulling the wool over your eyes. Robert asked me to negotiate his terms and meet you and your lovely bride.”

“Did he order you to be my friend?”

Renly raised an eyebrow. “I don't always do as my brother orders. For what it worth you're a good couple and you have a bright future ahead of you.'Tis no hardship to be a friend to you.”

“But my father holds by the Old Ways and he still rules, he won't abdicate just for Sansa and I...oh!” Theon ground to a halt as he realised just what Renly was trying to imply. 

“So you think that-” Theon started to say the truth dawning on him, but Renly hushed him.

“Not a word, Theon. Seriously. Your father will never admit to it and none know on the Isles just yet. Robert would like to keep it that way for a while.”

“So not even my sister knows...”

Renly glanced towards the Lady Asha who was dancing a mite closer than was strictly decent with Ser Loras. Her arm was curled round his shoulders and she had a smile on her sharp features softer and more languid than he had seen from her so far.

“She might suspect something is wrong but I doubt he would admit it, even to her. Not just yet. He's hanging on by the tips of his bloodied fingers and the tide's coming in fast. He had no choice but to accept you back as his heir and Sansa as your bride. Robert just made him an offer he could not refuse-”

No wonder he took no offence to his father's rudeness during the negotiations and let his jibes and insults go like water off a salmon's back. What point was there in holding a grudge with a dying man?

“You have to be prepared to step up and lead the Isles into a new era. Do you think you can?” Renly's voice was soft but urgent in his ear. “- because Robert is gambling a lot of money and political clout that you will be ready, and soon.”

“How soon?” Theon tried to keep the trepidation from his voice.

“If he has a year-” Renly's voice trailed away meaningfully, a thoughtful look on his face.

Theon felt as if he were being weighed in the balance, that he had something to prove. _I am my father only heir now. Maron and Rodrik are gone. It's time for me to step up and become a man._

“Yes. For Sansa and our children.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter should be entitled 'How to insult every single member of a group, The Karstark Way.'
> 
> Warning for violence and sexist language.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” chanted the men round the table, banging their tankards on the pitted and ale-stained surfaces. It was late and most of the groom's table were in a fairly advanced stage of intoxication by this point. 

Ros was back, perched on the lap of one of the Islanders and squirming lasciviously as his hands wandered in obvious appreciation of her curves. Sarah, her fellow barmaid was circling round the table, topping up the men's drinks and pocketing tips with much saucy backchat and smiles.

“What do you all want me to say?” laughed Theon merry and mellow from drink and good humour. “Oh alright, here goes. Gentlemen-”

“-and ladies!” Asha shouted raising her tankards to cheers from the Ironborn. “- let's not forget my good self and these lovely maids who've been serving us all night!”

“-and my redoubtable sister, obviously. How could I forget?” Theon rolled his eyes before becoming more serious for a second. “I never expected such good fortune, if I'm honest. I know who I am and what I am. The thought that Lord Ned would give his daughter to me as a bride - a girl who could have been and should have been a queen- that I should finally return home is more than I ever dreamed. I am a very fortunate man!” he sat down, with a bashful nod to indicate he'd finished. 

“Very pretty speech! Well said!”

The group cheered drunkenly. “Short and to the point but sweet, aye, I like it!”

“I wanna make a speech!” slurred one man boisterously attempting and failing to get to his feet.

“Aye and me!”

“-and me!”

Asha shook her head at Dunstan Drumm who was very enthusiastic about going next and addressing the table. “What are you talking about? You don't even know the groom!”

Drumm grinned at her. “So what? It looks like fun!”

Robb seemed to be the next to make a speech, clapping Theon on the shoulder and smiling down on the group.

“- so you're going to marry my sister. I never thought I'd see the day that you would be paired with our Sansa. I've always been great friends with you and thought of you well... as a brother of sorts. It'll be good to call you good-brother for real. Just be kind to our Sansa. She's a good lass, gentle-bred and she will strive to make you happy. I'm sure she will be the joy of your house as she is the pride of ours-”

The group gave a drunken cheer, buoyed up by alcohol and good spirits. At this point in the evening they were inclined to cheer for almost anything.

Asha was next, grinning as she stood up at the head of the table. Theon dreaded what she would come out with. It's going to be absolutely mortifying, isn't it? He told himself with an inward groan. Let us just pray 'tis over swiftly.

“My little brother coming home with a beautiful bride...never thought I would see the day... You're a very lucky lad, Theon and you're fortunate to have made such great and powerful friends. Don't think I'm going to make things easy for you once we get back, though. If you want to be heir, you'll have to earn it. I'm sure you and she'll rise to the challenge ahead. Don't forget we need heirs, although I'm sure that's not going to be a problem for you!” She raised her tankard. “To your return to the Isles! May you live in interesting times!”

“Aye!”

Theon raised his tankard, the corner of his mouth tilted up in irony. At least she'd tipped her hand, at last. He'd known that Asha would be a rival for his father's favour but deep in his heart he kind of relished the challenge to prove himself and carve out his own path. _I'll show them all, I can be a good heir to the Isles._

“How about me? I'd like to make a speech too!” Ros piped up.

The entire table fell quiet warily watching to see how Theon would react. The Winterfell party all swopped awkward looks. What on earth would she say? They all knew about his former relationship with her and Ros's bitter reproaches to Theon once she'd heard of his match to the young lady. Most of them had laughed their heads off as she'd rebuked him in the courtyard.  


Asha's eyes gleamed with mischief as she spotted a chance to needle her brother yet again. “Why not? Who else know my brother better than his former paramour? I know I would be interested in hearing what she has to say, wouldn't we lads?”

“Aye!” the ironborn cheered, backing her up.

Theon glared at Asha, who merely gave him her most innocent smile whilst batting her eyelashes at him. He was not remotely fooled by her antics, glaring back at her with narrowed eyes. _I will get you back for this, sister. Never fret, you won't know how or when but you watch your back, he thought resentfully._

“Theon?” Ros turned to him.

_Damn the both of them!_ He thought. “Say what you please-” he shrugged as if he didn't care either way. _What harm could she do now?_

Ros was oblivious to the irritated undercurrents between the siblings and stood up clearing her throat. 

“I'm sure you all know what I was to m'lord and why I um... went up to Winterfell.” She started, looking almost apologetic. Theon was surprised: _Was she actually attempting to apologise? Ros the firecracker, tongue like a razor and volcanic temper to match her dark red hair? What was going on?_

“I've always had a bit o' a hasty temper and I said some things that were out of line. In truth you were never really meant for me, were you ? You said you knew who you were. Perhaps we were so good together that I forgot who I was-” She stopped to compose herself for a moment.? ” 

“You be good to m'lady, won't yer? I hope you are going to be very happy together. She's kind and pretty and sweet and she'll be good for yer. You were always good to me, you were so thank you and no 'ard feelings, eh?” she gave him a bittersweet smile, eyes glistening as she raised her tankard. “To the happy couple!"

“The happy couple!” the group echoed.

“See, that wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, was it?” smirked Asha. “What were you afraid of?”

Theon gave her a sharp glance. He hadn't forgotten her little stunt, but she'd keep. He was more intrigued by Ros's speech. _What had she meant by it?_

\-----

Theon had to find out exactly what Ros had been playing at. He would never have credited her with having such generosity of spirit especially after she had been so vexed about the betrothal. But she'd almost seemed to be giving him her blessing in a strange way.

“Ros?” he said catching her by herself in the corridor.

She curtseyed prettily to him. “M'lord Theon?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“'Course. What is it? I didn't say anything insulting, did I?” she gazed up earnestly at him.

“No, you didn't.” he agreed. “That's just what I was wondering...why?”

Ros looked up at him for a moment. “Look, I don't know if I should tell you, but...” she paused, as if considering whether she should reveal her reasons for relinquishing him. “-She came to see me a couple of weeks ago.”

Theon was surprised. “Sansa? Came to see you here?”

“Aye, she did.” Ros nodded. “After the way I behaved she might have been within her right to 'ave a go, scratch me eyes out or to ask questions about us but she didn't.” Her face softened as she absent-mindedly pushed back a stray lock of dark hair from his face. A gesture so affectionate and unthinking he couldn't help feeling a little sad for what might once have been. 

“- D'ye know what she wanted? She asked me how to make you happy. That was the only thing she wanted. Just to make you happy..." Her face crumpled a little as if she was about to cry which made Theon feel awkward. He'd never been good at dealing with weeping females.“

“I want you to know I'm sorry. Should have told you what was happening.” he said gruffly. "I owed you that at least. You were in the right of it to rebuke me."

She gave him a brave if wan little smile.“Aye, you should but it's done now and there's no use holding a grudge is there, m'lord Theon. It's done.” She sighed as she turned back to him at the top of the stairs. “I meant what I said, in there. That girl loves you already. Be good to her.”

_Maybe I underestimated Ros,_ Theon thought in surprise and gratitude. _Whoever would have guessed she could be so noble in defeat?_ “Thank you, Roslin. I will.”

\-------

Theon turned to find Jon in the entrance to the main room. _How long had he been there? Had he been spying on him and Ros? What did he think he was going to do the night before his wedding to Sansa, cheat on her when his whole future and that of the Isles was at stake. He wasn't a complete fool!_

“How long have you been there?” Theon asked Jon, who went crimson but stood his ground.

“Long enough-”

“I didn't do anything. We were just talking-” Theon felt as if he was trying to justify himself. He hadn't even done anything for once. What did Jon think he was going to get up to on some tavern steps near enough in full view of the bar? “Ros was just being polite, Jon-”

To his surprise Jon's dour face broke into a little smile. “I know. I was right here remember? C'mon let's go back to the table. They'll be wondering where we are.”

_Well, I'll be damned!_ Utterly surprised by Jon's reaction he followed him mutely back to the table.

\--------

“Where's Renly?” asked Robb sitting down next to Theon when he returned.

“He was meant to be getting another round in, but he's propping up the bar with Ser Loras.”

“How's things?” he gave him a companionable nudge. “Good night out, isn't it?”

“Not Bad...” Theon drained the last of his tankard and gave him a mellowed out smile.

“So what did you two talk about while Ser Loras was dancing with the sister. You looked pretty into it from what I could see.”

Theon paused.

“Is this something you can't talk about?”

He sighed, not meeting his friend's eye. “It's to do with my father and the Isles, that's all I can say-”

Robb knew better than to push it. If Theon didn't want to talk about it right now then it wasn't his business to nag at him. He was no longer the carefree noble youth with few responsibilities. Theon was going back home with his sister as his bride, he was going to have to learn how to rule his region and live with his people.

“You know I'm glad you're marrying our Sansa.” he mused, changing the subject. “ -No really, I am! When his Grace told us all he was giving her to you no one really knew what to expect, but you've done a lot to reassure her and us of your good intentions. All that dancing attendance on her and Jeyne...bet you probably never want to hear another verse of ruddy 'Aemon the Dragonknight' or 'The Flowers that Bloom in Springtime' ever again!”

“'Two Hearts that beat as One'...ugh!” Theon mock groaned, before being a bit more serious. “It was worth it, though. I see that now, every note-”

Robb turned to him in surprise at the fond softness in his voice.“ Are you...are you in love with my sister?”

“Robb-” a flush of colour stained his cheekbones.

“You are, aren't you?”

Theon made a slightly embarrassed mumble that sounded remarkably like: 'I might be, what of it?', and busied himself with his pint.

“No, there's no need to be bashful about it. It's what my father and the family wanted. Just that our Sansa will be happy with you.”

“I hope she will. I wish that Jon felt the same way.” Theon couldn't help but remark rather dryly.

Jon's attitude towards Theon hadn't softened over the course of his courtship. Robb wondered if he would ever accept Theon as his good-brother.

“Jon is the eldest of us. He worries, you know what it's like. He'd be wary of any man who wooed our sister.” Robb earnestly tried to reassure his friend. 

What was it between these two? They'd never liked each other, and since the match had been announced, Jon had been overwhelmingly negative about it. He remembered how outraged his brother had been the day they'd caught the lovers kissing in the forest in that flower carpeted glade, pinning Theon by the scruff of his neck and threatening him.

“Especially since he's never liked or trusted me.” Theon's mouth turned up cynically at the corner. Robb started to protest, but Theon stopped him. “No you don't have to defend him. I know how he thinks of me. He thinks I'm a savage; that I have it in my blood and I can't help myself.”

“He doesn't mean-”

“I would never hurt her. Not if it was in my power-” Theon told him. “why can't he see that?”

“He will. Just give it time. He'll see it as we do at last.” Robb assured his friend. “-Perhaps you might invite him to the Isles in a couple of months. No, not to check up on you-” he interceded, just before he saw Theon was about to protest. “- Just to reassure him and her. I wonder whether she worries she'll be isolated from the family. It's a huge change for her.”

Theon sighed. Jon got on his nerves if he were being completely honest, but if it made his new bride happy and helped her settle in, he supposed they could work something out. _Perhaps if he stayed at Harlaw and they met him there, that might work...._

“I'll talk to my father, see if he would grant permission. I don't promise he won't be a grouch and refuse, but if it's important to you all-”

“You'd do that? For Sansa?”

“Don't get your hopes up; I said I'd try, it's not the same thing!” Theon warned before Robb got it into his head to try and hug him. _Stark always got a bit sentimental when he was intoxicated._

“But at least you were willing to consider it. Thank you-”

“What the devil for? I haven't actually done anything yet, Robb?”

“But you are willing to consider my request to make Sansa happy. That means a great deal.” Robb said with a hint of triumph in his voice.

\------

A group of people entered the tavern worse the wear for drink. They made their way to the bar getting a round in from the over worked barmaid Annie before the group could stop them.

“Oh, I am so sorry Lord Renly! They said they were part of your group but they were a bit late, so we started serving them before we realised the truth of it.” said Annie who was nearly in tears at her mistake.“then they all started flooding in before I could stop them-” 

“No harm done, my dear. We'll deal with this.” Robb said sounding more confident than he felt.

“Who are these newcomers?” Renly asked as they walked back from the bar.

“They're Karstarks.” Robb said spotting the other group's insignia of a white starburst on a black field. “They're kin of ours although they can be a mite troublesome.”

“They look half drunk and spoiling for a fight, if I might say so, m'lord?” Jory observed. 

“Stubborn bastards. I wonder what they're up to.”

Jon looked troubled as he spotted the newcomers. “They weren't very happy about the news that our sister was marrying a Greyjoy. I remember Lord Karkstark writing to father asking him if he'd lost his mind. Not everyone is pleased about this union I hate to say.”

_Neither are you, Jon Snow,_ thought Robb though he was too tactful to say it.

“Alright, bastard!” shouted Cregan Karstark in greeting. Jon gritted his teeth in annoyance. He hated it beyond anything when people went out of their way to remind him of his birth.

“Don't rise, he's drunk. Can't you see it?” Robb murmured to his brother, making an effort to keep the peace. “Let's just get them out of here before they spoil everything!”

“Too good to speak to us, Snow? Being the Ned's spawn sure given yer airs and graces!”

“Water off a frog's back. Don't let it vex you-”

Jon ground his teeth, but kept silent swallowing the insult with great difficulty.

“What's this?” Cregan Karstark mocked, avidly eyeing Asha with such a lascivious eye that both Qarl and Tris glared at him, only too eager to pick a fight. “Drinking with the Iron-born? Mighty strange bedfellows, ain't they? Check yer pockets, lads, in case you lose anything!”

“We were invited, which is more than can be said for the likes of you!” Asha answered back pertly, unafraid of these newcomers.

This was not strictly true, you all gatecrashed your way into the celebration, thought Theon but he wasn't about to say anything just yet. Not with these hostile Karstarks circling like buzzards round their table insulting all and sundry.

“C'mon cousin is there any need for this? We're just having a quiet drink before the ceremony. There's other taverns-” Robb interposed, trying hard to keep the peace.

He brushed off Robb's attempts at keeping the peace, taking a belligerent tone calculated to get the backup of everyone round the table. “We're settled in this one now, thank ye. Better ale and prettier wenches in this tavern than any of the others. Why should we leave?”

“Aye!” his henchmen agreed behind him. “I want a go on that Ros afore I leave!”

“You've been asked to leave, now come on.” Jon urged, still keeping a pleasant though stern tone. “We've asked you politely.” 

“We just want a drink afore the wedding, you wouldn't begrudge us that, would ye?” Lord Rickard said in his most wheedling tones. 

“This tavern is hired, I'm afraid.” Renly told them with icy politeness. “So be on your way, good sers.”

“We've already bought our drinks, you ain't going to chuck us out?” appealed Lord Rickard Karstark to the landlord who shuffled awkwardly not wanting to get caught in a disagreement between two high-born lords. On one hand, Lord Renly had paid a handsome sum to hire out the tavern for the revel,- and he was the king's brother, but Lord Karstark and his party were more likely to return for repeat business. It was quite a dilemma for the landlord.

“You keep to your side of the tavern and we'll keep to ours. You drink up, with no lingering and interfering with the groom's party. That's the fairest thing we can suggest.” Jon said. “We want no trouble here-”

\------

“They're back **again**. Damn, these Karstarks are persistent, aren't they?” Renly remarked looking more than a little irritated. “I thought they were leaving anyhow?”

The other group were bent on spoiling the night in one way or another. There was need for them to keep needling the group but they kept doing it and getting more and more offensive each time.

“What part of ' This is a private party; you're not invited' did you fail to understand, I wonder?” Loras didn't even try to conceal the sharp sarcasm in his voice, nor the volume of his well-cultured tones.

Rickard bristled at his tone. His jaw stuck out stubbornly refusing to leave even where he wasn't wanted.

“So you invited those reavers and thieves but you won't allow honest men to join in the celebrations? You even have a slut in breeches preside o'er yer table but shun us. Ain't we good enough for yer?”

“What did you say to our Asha?” Qarl said in an ominous voice, standing up suddenly and squaring up to the Northerner in imposing fashion. The atmosphere round the table dropped several degrees.

“Oh Gods, I knew there was going to be trouble. Now there's going to be a ruck.” muttered Robb. “Where's Jory and Ser Rodrik when you need them?”

“Oh sit down, Qarl, I've got this.” Asha gave the Northerner a grim little smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. The other man should have been very afraid if he'd any sense. He evidently didn't.

“He insulted you!” Tris protested, for once in agreement with Qarl. “Are we meant to stand aside and let him?”

“Aye!”

“Say the word, and we'll gut 'im!”

“I said, I've got this!” her voice was a sharp as a whiplash, quelling any dissent with one sentence. It wasn't just a physical resemblance to Balon Greyjoy that she'd inherited, she'd got his force of personality as well. Her crew backed down, glowering at the Karstarks in silent resentment. 

Qarl sat down with a scowl, glaring at the Karstark as if he'd quite like to disembowel him with his bare hands.  
“Just ignore them; they'll be gone soon and we can get on with our revel.” Asha looked at him dismissively. “I wouldn't dirty my knuckles on 'em”

\------

Unfortunately, Cregan and Arnolf Karstark who were the main troublemakers didn't know when to leave well enough alone. They were soon butting in, aggravating the guests and causing conflict wherever they went.

“Gods, I thought it was a maid in disguise.” mocked Cregan Karstark, spotting Loras and another seemingly easy target to torment on the dancefloor.”Is it old enough to shave, I wonder? Step aside, stripling, I'll show the lass how to dance with a real man-” he gave Loras a shove which made him stumble, but he managed to right himself with cat-like grace.

“Do you mind, ser? I am a sworn knight!” Loras snapped, taking great offence to his rude comments and uncalled for aggression.

“A sworn Knight?'” he mocked, laughing in Tyrell's face and making Loras even more angry. He seemed to be going out of his way to be offensive now, egged on by his kin Arnolf. “-wonder how you earned them spurs?-”

Loras's eyes grew wide in outrage. His smooth cheeks flamed scarlet with annoyance. “-I beg your pardon?” he said in a soft dangerous tone.

The other man grinned offensively at him, leering at his soft curls and lovely large honey gold eyes. “-you must have been good, to earn a promotion on your knees. Where's your liege-lord? Over there, is he?”

Asha took advantage of Loras's appalled shock to intervene before he called the Karstark out. “Ser, you are intruding. I was dancing with Ser Loras.” Asha said to him, her voice sharp with rebuke. “Go amuse yourself elsewhere!”

“Don't yer want to dance wi' a proper man instead of some pretty boy southron?” he leered at her instead, smacking his lips crudely. “I bet I could show yer some moves. Yer ain't bad for an Island girl. Fantastic arse in them breeches-”

Her lip curled as she looked him up and down as if he was nothing better than dirt underneath her boot. “Don't flatter yourself!” she sneered, turning her back on Cregan and directing her attention to Loras.“Now where were we, my Lord Tyrell?”

Cregan didn't much like being rejected for a Southron by the looks of things. He butted in again, grabbing her by the shoulder and forcibly turning her back to him.

“You really don't take 'No' for an answer, do you?” she sighed impatiently. “What now?”

He made a move to grab Asha close by the hips. She feinted, lashing out with one heavily booted foot which caught him square in the stones. He went down like a lead weight, clutching at his groin and rolling in pain. “Aargh, what are you trying to do? Unman me?”

“Get the hint, you fool!” she hissed, looming over him. “I'm not interested!”

Loras gave her an admiring look. “Good move, Lady Asha!”

“The little bitch!” Cregan gasped, furious at being made to look a fool in front of everyone. “I'll get yer for that, you salt-crusted whor-”

As one, the Iron Islander's hands moved to their weapons, eager to defend Balon's daughter no questions asked. Asha had slid her throwing axes out and was passing them deftly from hand to hand. “Think carefully about what you say next, Greenlander!” she gave him a grim smile.

Ros squealed and dived for refuge behind the bar before things could get more violent.

“No weapons, sers, by the gods!” moaned the landlord who could see his peaceful profitable evening disappearing in a violent melee by the second.

As the Ironborn looked as if they were about to throw down, and Asha was no longer trying to stop them, Renly stepped in.

“Is there a problem here, sers? Loras, are these men troubling you and the Lady Asha?” he said leaning on the table near the dancefloor.

Loras was almost inarticulate with anger at Karstark's insinuations. “Renly! He said... he implied-”

“What, Ser Loras?”

Karstark seemed not to have learned his lesson and grinned provokingly as he pulled himself up from the floor. He got right in Renly's face leaning towards him and near asphyxiating him with ale-fumes“ -Are you 'is liege-lord? Tell me, is he as good on his knees and with 'is mouth as he appears?” he slurred with a grin.

Renly was struck speechless for a second at his blatant insult. The colour flooded into his face as his temper rose.

"Lord Renly looks as though he's about to boil over. You can literally see the steam coming from his ears." Jon told Robb urgently. "Robb, we've got a situation on our hands." 

“You've caused nothing but trouble. You were given a chance. Get out and find some other place to drink, you're not welcome!”

“What if we don't want to leave? You can't make us!” Arnolf sneered.

Renly towered over the hapless Karstark, his eyes hard and storm -dark. It was quite a surprise to see him angry as he seemed so laid-back and friendly.

“I wasn't asking you; I was telling you. Get your men and get out!”

“Now I know why the Baratheon words are: Ours is the Fury." Robb muttered to Jon. "D'ye think his temper's anything like King Robert's for we'll need back-up if it is."

" Bloody Hell, our princeling has got a proper temper on him.” Arnolf mocked, making things worse.

Theon found it interesting that it took an insult to Ser Loras to make Renly's good humour to dissipate. He hadn't thought there was much resemblance to his older brother but it was clear that when roused they had similar tempers and an alarming propensity for violence. Renly tended to keep his well hidden under a mask of good humour and easy-going urbanity though which made it even more shocking when it leaked out.

“Take your hands off my friend.” he growled. “- before you lose them, ser. And I demand an apology to the Lady Asha immediately. You test my patience, Northman!-”

Cregan Karstark laughed in Renly's face not heeding the danger coiled in his clenched fists. “What are you going to do about it, southron? Poke me in the eye and call yer mother? I'll call 'er what I like-”

Renly lifted him up by the collar and punched him clear across the length of the table. He landed in a drunken heap cannoning into Lord Rickard.

“ -That is for insulting the Lady Asha and my sworn sword. Anyone else want to try their luck?” he gave the rest of their henchmen a baleful glare leaning forward aggressively, fists on the table.

“Not I!”

“I'd not pick a fight wi' that one. He's a big ol' bastard, ain't he?” one said as he edged away from the enraged Stormlander.

Loras came to soothe his lord and master. "It's fine, Renly. I'm not hurt. What did you do to your knuckle?" he said frowning at his lord's injured hand.

"I wasn't having him insult you-" Renly said with a stubborn scowl. "-those foul things he said-"

"I'm your sworn sword; I'm meant to defend **you** , you daft gallant lummox." he gave a sigh, half exasperated and half admiring. Loras raised Renly's hand to his lips to soothe the split bruised knuckles . It was an oddly tender and intimate gesture. as if there was no one else in the room but them.

"Come on, my lord, let's get some fresh air and cool off a bit." Loras smiled at him as Renly's hand idly moved over his curls. 

Renly's smile crept back as he looked at Loras with a fond gaze. "Aye, let's-"

\-------

“You can't go round saying things like that to strangers. You never think, Cregan! And you shouldn't encourage him to run his mouth off-” At last, one of their kin hurried up, trying to smooth tempers and ruffled feathers. Robb sighed in relief. At least Harrion Karstark was a little bit more reasonable. _A shame he hadn't turned up in time to prevent all that conflict, but better late than never._

Cregan and Arnolf were not sensible enough to take Harrion's warning and were still being mouthy.

“Aye well I have plenty to say 'bout that as well. The Ned must have lost it giving his daughter to an Ironman. What was he thinking?”

“Bet he dishonoured the girl and Lord Ned had no choice.” Arnolf Karstark sneered, indicating Theon with a scornful toss of his head. “What happened? Did he catch yer turning up 'er skirts in the stables, eh?”

It was with great difficulty that Robb managed to restrain Theon from launching himself over the table to fight Arnolf for his insolence. 

"Let me at him!" snarled Theon drunkenly struggling madly in Robb's grip.

Robb held him firm. "Let me deal with it, Theon. You're so drunk you'll probably see two of him if you take a swing-" 

“You will not talk about my bride to be like that, or I'll knock every tooth in your head down your throat.” Theon snapped at Arnolf. "Is that clear?"

Arnolf sneered at the groom.  "I'll talk about 'er as I like. I aint said anything wrong

“Watch it! That's my sister you are talking about!” Robb frowned to the northerner. “Seven Hells, you need to stop right now, before you insult anyone else. Harrion, please can you not control your kin?”

“I'm trying-” the other man said wretchedly.

“You're not trying hard enough, Harrion.”

Arnolf was unperturbed, carrying on with his insulting rant towards the bride and making the conflict flare even hotter, encouraged by the appalled speechless silence of the group round the table. If there was a line of acceptable behaviour, Arnolf had passed it long time ago. “Rutting in the Godswood like stoats? She were a pretty lass, wern't she? Must have been such a come down for her- to be shackled to the likes of you.”

“How dare you speak of my sister like that! You wait until my father hears of this outrage!” Robb was angry at his insolent words. He'd spent ages trying to keep the peace while the Karstarks had gone out of their way to insult nearly every single member of the group. He was starting to wonder why he was bothering. Let the Ironborn, Lord Renly and Theon beat the snot out of them; it would be no more than they deserved.

“Are you trying to insult every single member of this party? What is wrong with you? Look, my lords, I am heartily sorry for any offence-” Harrion tried to say, belatedly trying to keep some peace now that the situation had escalated and at the threat of Lord Eddard hearing of their exploits. “We just wanted a drink and a bit o' fun but my kin are hasty with their tongues.”

“'Snot my fault you lot can't bear a bit o' plain speaking-” Arnolf butted in, ruining Harrion's efforts. “It's an abomination marrying Miss Sansa to the likes of 'im.”

“Enough, Arnolf! You always go too far.” Harrion snapped at his tactless and insulting relative. “Lords, help us when the Ned finds out about all of this...”

“Don't worry, he will. He's probably heading here as we speak.” Robb told him bluntly.

“Here?”

"Not so mouthy now, are you Karstark?" Theon jibed as the other man snarled at him.

“Jory, send someone to get my father. This is getting out of hand.” Jon said urgently, pulling Robb away before he got punched in the face by a stray fist.

“Aye, my lord. One of the lad's already on the way to the castle.”

"We should have called someone well before this."

Jon looked rather cross at the reminder. "I thought we'd be able to handle it between ourselves. We're meant to be keeping Lord Renly and Theon out of trouble."

"Think it's a bit late for that, ain't it m'lord?" Jory remarked.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fabled Wedding at long last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the conclusion that smaller updates are the way forward seeing you guys have been so patient waiting for me to get it together. I can only apologise and hope you enjoy the wedding!

No one dared disobey the early morning summons from Cat after the night's revel. The group crawled back to the welcoming refuge of Winterfell somewhat bruised and battered after their conflict with the Karstark party. Renly was nursing two bruised and spilt knuckles from when he'd punched Cregan across the table. Asha sported an impressive blacked eye and a bump from being beaned with a pewter tankard during the chaos. Nevertheless the party had a slightly triumphant air – and even more curiously, the Ironborn and the Greenlanders had bonded somewhat over their shared battle.

Cat took one look at the group and though her eyes widened at the state of them, particularly on this important wedding day, she said nothing. Her mouth thinned into a line of disapproval as she examined them all, pacing up and down the line and takiing in bruises and injuries.

“Ah Lord Renly, how good of you to join us.” she said in a deceptively pleasant tone as she encountered her guest who had just slid in with Loras trying to be unobtrusively late.

Renly looked like a guilty squire caught in a major misdemeanour. He shifted from foot to foot digging the toe of his boots into the rushes. “Lady Catelyn, I can explain everything, I promise-” he started.

“Really?” Cat eyed him severely. “Why is Lord Balon's daughter sporting a huge black eye on my daughter's wedding day? Would you like to explain that, Lord Renly?”

“You should see the other guy-” Robb chuckled a little too loudly. “I'll say one thing for Lady Asha she's got a right hook on her like-”

His mother turned sharply, her sharp ears catching his comment. “This is not funny! How am I going to explain this to our guest!”

Asha and Theon caught each other's eye and made a face. "God, I'll look like Uncle Euron." she muttered.

“If you had been there you would have understood. They went out of their way to be offensive. It's lucky that things only went as far as they did, mother.” Robb said hastily trying to make things better before his mother burst a blood-vessel. “The outrageous things they said to each of us and about Sansa, we could not let that slide.”

“We are truly sorry about the damage. I will make it good with the landlord, I promise.” Renly said with lashings of sincere charm. “but we had to do something. the things he said about my sworn sword and the lady Sansa were unforgivable."

Cat eyed all of them with distrust but at least she didn't look as if she was going to seriously maim someone for breathing wrong.

“Very well, go and get dressed. I want to see you all presentable and ready at noon. No exceptions or excuses. Is that clear? No one is spoiling my daughter's big day.”

“Yes, Ma'am!” they all chorused dutifully, filing out of the room.

Cat passed Lord Eddard on the stairs after seeing the group troop out of her solar.

“What did you say to them?” he asked bemusedly. “I never thought to see Lord Renly or Lady Asha look so hangdog?”

Cat's smile was a little more serene. “-Oh I just had a word about my expectations and asked what really happened last night. What did you say to the Karstarks?”

Ned's face was grim. “They won't be troubling us or any of our guests any more. Isn't that right, Lord Rickard?”

The lord in question shuffled forward looking very much the worse for wear followed by a contrite Harrion, Arnolf and Cregan.

“I believe you have something to say to my lady wife, do you not?”

Lord Rickard ground his teeth, plainly reluctant to say what was required of him, but Ned was determined not to back down and glared at him until he shuffled uncomfortably.

“I was unforgivably rude about your lass and said things which were wholly untrue. Can you forgive us?” he muttered unwillingly.

“I don't think we need to bother Lady Sansa with this on her special day-” Cat said coolly.

Harrion breathed a sigh of relief which was rather premature as she continued to speak. “-but in the circumstances you’ll understand if we no longer wish for you to share in our special day. Your mounts will be made ready for you within the hour. Lady Alys may stay if she wishes and we will give her an honour guard afterwards back to your halls. I don't see why she should suffer for your lack of respect and tact.”

The Karstark party blinked as if unable to believe they were being dismissed so summarily.

“Come cousin Catelyn, surely you can't be supporting them! You can't be happy that Greyjoy is marrying your daughter.” Rickard protested. “You know what he is, what blood runs through his veins.”

“My Lord Rickard, the things you said about my daughter and my prospective good-son angered Ned and I very much. I would not push your luck if I were you.” Catelyn eyed him coolly as she swept away, leaving him gaping helplessly like a beached fish at low tide.

“Ned, come on ’twas nowt but a jape! You aren't going to send us from your halls for a jape?” Cregan appealed to Ned but he was unmoved by his craven appeal.

Ned's face was unmoving. “Cat speaks with my voice. You'd better get your things together swiftly.”

Cat brushed the copper length of Sansa’s hair as she helped her get ready for her wedding day until it shone and crackled with life. The thick fiery waves of her hair hung down flowing to her waist  


“I never thought I’d see the day. My little girl’s marriage day-”

Arya was still fidgeting with the neckline of her handmaiden's dress, which was pale cream watered silk edged with tiny seawater pearls. She scowled, losing all patience with the long fluting lace edged sleeves which swept nearly down to the floor. “Bother these sleeves!”

“Try not to fidget Arya, you look so lovely and lady-like.” Sansa said serene as ever. 

Arya wondered if she ever got scared or perturbed, or did her elder sister just float through life calm serene and perfect? Even getting married to Theon and moving to the Iron Isles didn't seem to bother her any more. If she didn't know better she would have said that they had fallen in love with one another.

“I don't do lady-like. And I don't see why I couldn't have worn breeches, or even an eye-patch like Lady Asha. It looks so dashing-.”

Septa Mordane sighed long-sufferingly as if she'd had to say this over and over again to little avail. “We are not going over this again, Lady Arya. No eye-patches!”

She was so tall for her age, so elegant and lovely in her gown of cream Samite embroidered with silver, the diamond stars from Lord Renly in her fiery hair. Cat had the odd feeling she was looking at a past mirror image of herself, gleaming and radiant with reflected love.

Cat kissed her cheek. “I know that you’ll do me proud, dear girl. Be Brave.”

“I will, Mother, I promise.”

“Your father is waiting to see you.”

Ned knocked on the door. “Are you all decent?”

“What do you think?” Cat said presenting Sansa to her father. Ned saw her wedding dress for the first time. He had to say Cat and the seamstress had done themselves proud as he knew they would.

The dress was heavy cream silk with a thick border of silver and pearl embroidery on the sleeves and the neckline baring her pale lovely shoulders. Sansa's hair was left loose and brushed into a gleaming curtain of red gold. The diadem from Lord Renly took pride of place reflecting light and giving her radiance.

“Do you like it, Father? Do you think Theon will?” she asked him rather anxiously. She knew all eyes were going to be on her today.

“-he's lucky to have you and I hope he knows it. You all look marvellous.” Ned's smile was a little bit wobbly moved by the occasion. “I can't believe today I give my daughter away...the pride of my house.”

He looked over at his wife who was discreetly dabbing her eyes.

“Are you ready, Sansa?” he asked her.

She took a deep breath, the tight lacing of the bodice constricting her. This was not a time to get nervous. This was what she and Theon had been preparing for since the King had proposed this match all those months ago. She would not fail them now.

“As ready as I'm ever going to be, Father.” she said putting her hand on his arm and letting him lead the way.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding Day! (Part 2, I think!)
> 
> Yes, at long last we are cordially invited to the wedding of Theon Greyjoy and Sansa Stark and about time too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been quite nervous about writing this chapter to be honest, so thanks for all your patience. You guys are seriously the best! I admit the wedding is quite fluffy but then I needed to write something sweet and positive following the unrelenting drama in 'Runaways'. So, let the happy Sansa/ Theon times commence!

When Sansa and the bridal party emerged from her room the household were gathered to greet the young miss of the house going to her wedding day. Most of them had known her since she was a child and she'd grown up with them. 

_I'm going to miss all these familiar faces, Gage the cook, Maester Luwin with his kindly face, Ser Rodrik and Jory, little Beth Cassel in a pretty new dress and scarlet ribbons. The people who help make this place home._

“Good luck to the young mistress and her new husband!” called one loyal old servant who had known her since she was a baby.

“May the Gods grant you children prosperity and long life!”

She was deeply touched by their well-wishes. Whatever they thought of her match to an Islander, the servants all seemed to wish them well. Theon had been part of the household for so long, the goodwill for the couple extended to him as well. Sansa was quietly pleased by that – she sensed that for all his bravado, the lack of acceptance from the household had bothered him for most of his time here. _Acceptance and love, a place in the world of his own, that's what he needs. I will be that for him. I will be his safe harbour._

“Thank you!” she waved and blew kisses to them, delighting the crowd. “Thank you all for your good wishes!”

 

The line of servants and guests extended out to the godswood, where Theon and the party of Ironborn were waiting. Ned noticed that they took care not to stand very near the heart-tree, slightly distrustful of any god that was not their own.

Theon stood with his Uncle Rodrik and Asha. She was sporting a black silk scarf round her bruised eye as a makeshift eye-patch and truth be told it did give her a rather roguish air. Arya pouted a little in envy as she held the bride's train. Sansa suspected she wanted one of her own, but Septa Mordane and her mother had vetoed it.

His eyes lit up as he saw her. Sansa had never felt so beautiful as she did when his admiring gaze alighted on her. She could hear the soft gasps of the crowd as the silver and diamond diadem caught the light. Jeyne and Arya held the edge of her train as she stood before the heart tree awaiting her husband to be's hand and the officiating priest to start the ceremony.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this morn in the sight of the Old Gods and the new to join these two young people in the holy sacrament of marriage.” intoned the priest. “Does anyone know of any lawful impediment why these two young people should not be joined in holiest matrimony?”

There was a tense moment before both parties answered 'No'. The Lannisters were nowhere near Winterfell. They could not interfere even if they were to hear of the ceremony. The place was far too well-guarded, as Ned was taking no chances. But the issue was still there, a cloud on the horizon of this happy day.

“Sansa of House Stark, do you promise to love, honour and obey this man. To share in his fortunes, to bear his children and be blithe and bonny at bed and board?"

"I do, Father." She said clearly, beaming with happiness.

“Theon of House Greyjoy, do you promise to provide for her, protect her with your sword as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” his voice was strong and sure.

“Then by the power invested in me by the Gods, I now pronounce you both husband and wife.”

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.” they both repeated dutifully.

The priest cleared his throat and addressed himself to the young couple.

“In the sight of the Seven and the Old Gods, I declare this man and woman married in the sight of the gods. Cursed be the man who tries to tear you asunder.”

She felt his hands fasten the cloak around her and press a kiss to her cheek. She couldn’t believe it had happened. She was married, to Theon. She was his now, and Joffrey couldn’t touch her. She didn’t know whether to be scared, exhilarated or terrified. With trembling hands she draped her cloak round his shoulders, the white silk covering his fine tunic.

"Dear girl, there's no need to be afraid-" he said softly, looking at with understanding eyes. It felt so natural then to go into his arms to kiss him knowing that it was allowed now, and they no longer had to sneak around in deserted corners to kiss one another. His arms wrapped round her pulling her close.

When he’d finished kissing her deeply she found herself clinging to him, her arms wound round his neck and her body pressed tightly to his. The crowd applauded at this show of affection between them.

The group headed back from the godswood back into the castle for the festivities, following the bride and groom who walked arm in arm, wrapped up in each other.

## The Great Hall, Winterfell

The band had finished tuning up and couples were starting to make their way to the dance floor. The jaunty strains of 'The Maiden and the Shoe' emanated from the musician's gallery. 

The tables were set up ready for the wedding feast in the Great Hall. The great banners of the Families were hung up on the walls and behind the dais, giving a splash of colour to the place. 

“'Tis mighty strange to see the Golden Kraken hung up there with our colours.” remarked one Northern lord as he passed the couple in the dance.

“Well, times have changed, can't ye see the way the winds blowing?” his friend observed watching the young couple dancing. Theon's arm was wrapped round her slender waist and she leaned against him, pressing close to the fine velvet of his doublet. “The Ironborn are to be neighbours and family now. Did you not hear about what happened to the Karkstarks?”

“Nay, what happened?”

“Apparently, there was some unrest at the tavern before the wedding. Lord Rickard and his party were being very insulting towards the bride and the groom, and they insulted many of the guests of honour as well. Lord Stark slung them out. He was most displeased.”

“Alys Karkstark's still here though, isn't she dancing with one of the Stark lads over there?” Alys and Robb were partnering each other in the dance, smiling as they clasped hands. She looked so much lighter and happier once her rather forbidding male relatives were out of the way.

“She's the only one allowed to stay though. Everyone else had to get out within the hour- on Lord Ned and Lady Catelyn's orders.”

“Times have changed and no mistake.” the Northerner said shaking his head. “To think we would live to see the day where we rub shoulders with the Iron-born and give them our fairest daughters to wed? Where will it end?”

All the great families of the North were in attendance. Mormont, and Ryswell and Dustins, Manderleys and Boltons, all here to do homage to the wedding of the eldest Stark girl.

“Such a shame. She could have had anyone, a girl as pretty and well-bred as that to be given to a Greyjoy. What an appalling waste-” Barbrey Dustin’s sour tones carried as she discussed the marriage with a neighbour. It didn’t stop her from helping herself liberally to the victuals, sloshing more of the Dornish sour into her near overfilled goblet.

Cat longed to correct her, but she wanted no conflict on her daughter’s big day. All the same, she privately wished the woman hadn’t been invited even though she knew to leave her out would have been a worse insult to the over-proud and vengeful lady.   
Lady Dustin'd had a bee in her bonnet ever since she was betrothed to Brandon Stark and Barbrey failed to have him

_I’ve never met a woman so bad-minded._

“King Robert had his reason for proposing the match and as it happens the couple are very fond of each other.”

Barbrey sniffed, not convinced by Catelyn's response. “I'm not surprised the way he practically mauled her in the godswood. You can't say that was decent Catelyn, can you?”

Catelyn gave her a forbidding look. “My daughter loves her new husband very much. I understand from his family and Sansa that they are very keen to start a family. There's nothing wrong with that?”

Well, they certainly know how to liven up a celebration, don’t they? Jory remarked as he walked past his lord, tankard in hand.

Ned thought it best to turn a blind eye to the more outrageous exploits of the Islanders once they had partaken liberally of his famed Northern Ale. There was a drunken group of them in the courtyard playing some barbarous game called the Finger Dance, which consisted of throwing daggers and axes at each other in a highly dangerous fashion. He had no doubt that someone would lose a finger of worse at this rate.

This was one of the wildest celebrations they’d ever had to host at Winterfell. Crowds of rough hardened warriors lined the halls drinking and shouting, their rough voices raised in extremely bawdy song.

Loras looked out of the window at the hollering whooping group of intoxicated Ironborn with an adorably bemused look on his face. “Is she actually throwing an axe at him? For fun?”

“Their ways are different than ours.” intoned Lord Renly shaking his head. “Theon tells me they play this game on the Isles from childhood, like we would play cyvasse or come-in -my castle.”

“Pfft, I'll say!”

Arya was subtly gravitating towards the outside courtyard, intending to slip off and watch the Ironborn's sport but Jon managed to catch her wrist in time.

“I don't think so!”

She pulled away from him, annoyed to be caught just before she got into any mischief. Just her luck to be caught just as she was about to have some fun. She'd been so good during the ceremony, even though she'd had to be in that dress for hours! “Jon, let go!” she hissed back.

“Where do you think you're going?”

“Nowhere-” Arya's voice trailed off guiltily.

“I hope you're not thinking of wandering outside to watch the Ironborn?” he asked trying to suppress a twinkle in his eyes.

Arya opened her mouth as if to deny it and then thought better of it. She closed it again. “I just want to see them playing their Finger-dance, is that so wrong?”

He shook his head. “Your lady mother would have a fit if she saw you, you know that?”

“She doesn't have to know though, right? She's distracted at the moment.” she pointed to her mother, who was deep in conversation with Alannys Greyjoy. “C'mon, no- one will notice if we sloped off to watch them for a bit. Aren't you curious?”

Jon struggled with his conscience especially when she turned pleading eyes towards his. He'd never been able to resist his younger sister. 

“Fine. Half an hour, is that clear? You stay by me, and if I see you trying to join in or straying from my side you're going straight to bed. Let's hope your mother and father don't see us.”

Arya smiled at her favourite brother, pleased to be getting her own way. “Thanks Jon, you're the best!”

Cat took great pains to separate the Groom’s party from her family. Maybe it was biased of her, but there was a part of her that didn’t trust them. Have we done the right thing, giving our girl to Theon? Linking our family with theirs?  
 _It's done now. Whatever doubts I may have , now is not the time to bring them up. Besides, Sansa loves her new husband and he really does seem to return her feelings.  
I hope it will be enough. I hope they are strong enough to deal with married life on the Isles. Is Theon ready to be Lord of the Isles and lead his people into a new era? Have we done enough to change him and negate Balon's influence? Only time will tell. This is a huge gamble, we ask so much of the young couple. Can they rise to the occasion?_

“So you’ll be returning back home, then?” Balon sounded most unwelcoming. His hostility was barely hidden, coming off him in waves like a heat haze. You would think he would be pleased to have his son and only heir returned to him, but nothing Theon said or did seemed to please the man. He peered down his long thin nose at the couple as if they had done something to displease him.

“That's the plan-” Theon didn't care if he sounded insolent. He was sick of his father and his constant sniping. 

_Would it have killed him for one day to be pleasant to him and Sansa?_

She laid a comforting hand over his, calming him down before he lost his patience and his temper and ending up fighting with his own father at the wedding dais. She envisaged the both of them squaring up to one another and her father and mother's horrified faces.

 _Let me at least try and keep the peace here,_ she told herself, foreseeing she would be spending a lot of time in her near future mediating between the two proud and prickly men.

“Don’t let him rile you. This is our day.” She said softly. He squeezed her hand, appreciating her comfort.

Theon stood up, his hand in Sansa's. He gave her a fond smile before seeking the attention of the guests.

“Hang on, the groom's about to make a speech!” said one guest pointing to the dais. Theon banged his tankard on the table to get the attention of the assembled guests.

“If you please, Ladies and gentlemen, I have something to say.” he looked pale and nervous but his face was set and determined. 

“I wonder what this is all about?” Ned eyed his new good-son warily.

“To the Islanders, my people who I return to at last with my bride-” he switched to the surprise to the guest to the old dialect of the Iron-born, now rarely heard or used on the mainland except by chroniclers or maesters specialising in the history of the Isles. There were murmurs from some of the northerners, suspicious as to what Theon was saying to his kin.

“What's 'e saying?” complained the Greatjon, screwing up his visage to work out what the groom was saying in his outlandish tongue.

Maester Luwin was listening carefully to his former pupil's words. “Well, now that's interesting, he's certainly stating he'll start as he means to go on. I think change will come to the Isles whether they will it or not.”

“Well, why doesn't he say it in the common tongue then?”

Lord Renly saw what Theon was doing and he was intrigued and pleased by it. 

“By speaking their tongue he reassures them that at heart he is one of them and fit to rule them, while telling them roundly that this is a new age and things must start to change.” Personally, he was very gratified by what he'd just heard. When he had undertaken this mission for Robert he'd wondered whether Theon would have the ability and political instincts to rule his people and bend them to his will. His brother's plan depended on it. He'd expended a lot of energy in friendship even though he'd grown to like the lad for himself, but it was good to see the gamble paid off.

Theon switched back to the common tongue, never taking his eyes off his new bride. “Sansa stand up for me, I want everyone to see you, sweetling,”

She stood up next to him and he took her hand, placing both of them over his chest where his heart was. “This is my wife Sansa of House Stark, my rock-wife. The wife I married for love. I swear that I will have no other wife but she as long as we both shall live. May the Storm God take me and the drowned gods refuse me entry to his halls if I prove false.”

She looked up at him stunned by the vow he had made in front of them all. Her heart thrilled at his heartfelt vow, her hand lay over his heart beating strong and true.

_I knew he was fond of me and he desired me, I could tell that from his kisses and the way he looked at me, but he stood up in front of them all and vowed that he loved me._

“It was good of him. It was good of him to do it, I was concerned about what would happen once she left for the Isles, but Theon reassured them that we value their girl.” Rodrik said with satisfaction. He clasped his nephew's shoulder as he passed, radiating approval. “Twas well spoke my nephew, and your command of the 'auld dialect' did ye no shame.”

Dagmer raised his tankard from his table. “Ye done well, lad! I knew you'd ne'er forget our tongue or yer roots! Good on yer!”

His father was not quite so pleased but he had to subside to the overwhelmingly positive response to his son's speech. “The boy's a damned fool or he's mad with love for her, I'm not sure which is worse.” grumbled Balon.  


His plot to get Theon to take some lass from the Isles as his rock-wife had just been publically scuppered by Theon's declaration. The greenlanders looked mightily pleased to hear his vow, Ned nodded his approval at his gesture and that dandy Lord Renly gave him a winning smile.

“I think 'tis terribly romantic. He loves her true.” Alannys sighed with happiness to see all her dreams for her darling son finally come to pass. “The drowned God grant them children for our hearth and soon.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon and Sansa's wedding night. Balon is a champion cock-blocker and the stakes are raised as an unwanted royal visitor makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part of the wedding! I'm really sorry about the delay in writing these, mostly due to the fact that I kind of muddle along unbeta'd with a vague outline to guide me. I guess I never expected this story to be as well received as it has been and I'm super grateful for everyone who's been following this tale of mine. Even if I keep you guys waiting for months at a time.
> 
> As it's the wedding night rating is shooting up to Mature. I am really not so good at writing any sort of lemon scenes so I'm nervous about this tbh. I know there's some people who have been waiting for this for a long while.

Sansa drank nervously gulping her wine as she sat at the table. She knew what was coming up soon - the bedding ceremony - and she was dreading it, if she were honest with herself a little. Not really because of Theon – in all their amorous explorations so far he'd been kind and fairly gentle, not rushing her despite the gap between his experience and her's- but now she was wed to him. What would everyone expect from her? 

She'd heard rumours of bedding ceremonies which had degenerated into free for all brawls, not helped by the intoxication of the guests who had been supping her father's hospitality all day and night. Would tonight be any different?

“Sansa dear, are you alright? You look terribly pale.” Septa Mordane gave her pupil a worried glance as she wrung her hands in an unconscious gesture of worry. 

Cat raised her head and gave her a sympathetic smile. Doubtless, she'd been through the same thing and knew how she felt.

“I...I'm fine, Septa.” her voice trembled a little as she tried to conceal her fears.

As she put her goblet down, her hands shook. She hoped no one else noticed just how scared she was. Hopefully the Iron-born would hold back preparing her for the bedding ceremony. The thought of being stripped to her shift or worse by those rough hands, leered at by those men was a nerve-wracking one. She wished she could confide in Jeyne or her mother, even Asha or Ros would have done, but she was on her own on this one.

_I have to be brave, I knew this was going to happen. Thousands of brides have endured this, even my own mother. Can I do any less? And at least I have a husband who declares himself in love with me and will try to be as kind as he can. How many high-born maidens can say the same?_

The feast was starting to die down now, people huddling in drunken heaps in the corners. To all intents and purposes the wedding day had been a success.

Now there was only one more more vital step that had to be taken to solidify the Stark/Greyjoy alliance. One of the most binding and drastic of all.

* * *

“It’s time!”

“Bed them!” one man shouted. The rest of them took up the cry banging their tankards on the table and cheering.

“Aye, Bed them!” the crowd were thumping on the tables, launching into a drunken chant. "BED THEM! BED THEM!"

 _Now is the time. I have to be brave. Thousands of girls have endured this,_ Sansa told herself, _.I can too!_

A rough hand pulled at the delicate neckline, she heard it rip exposing her shoulders and throat, spilling pearls and beading onto the rushes on the floor.

“Get the sleeves.”

“Shame to spoil that dress, it be so grand?” said one rough voice. “Stark must have laid out a fortune on it!”

“-but then he hath fortune to spare!”

“Aye, slit the back laces! Careful, now! Let’s see what Balon’s lad is getting!”

“Hey, be gentle, that’s my wife!” Theon called, seeing her terrified glances and her attempt to back away from the intoxicated horde. The crowd blocked the doorway, cutting off her potential escape route as the females of the group surrounded him, stopping him from reaching her. They were already pulling his doublet off, feeling his lithe sleek muscles and running their hands over him. Some of the maids, having got rather merry were pawing at him with rather hungry looks on their faces.

“Wait-” she could hear the panic in her voice but none of them were listening, intent on getting herself stripped to her skin as soon as possible. She had a terrible fear that they wouldn’t wait to get her into the bedchamber and simply demand the deed was done on the banquet table in front of everyone in some wanton pagan ritual, once the bride and groom were stripped naked. 

Sansa flushed in mortification at being bared to her shift and small clothes in front of all of these strange and brutal men. 

_Mother, Father, forgive my boldness, but I cannot be afraid._ Instinctively she knew that this was her first trial: if she backed down now, if she let these fearsome Ironborn cow her she would always be afraid, and they would not respect her as a strong suitable bride for the heir of the Isles.

She slid and shimmied out of her heavy silken finery, letting it fall to the floor in a magnificent heap. She stepped out of it, pulling away from their grasping hands. 

"Robb, lift me up. On the table." she hissed to her brother, who was valiantly trying to stop some of the more foolhardy and drunk men from attempting to take liberties and grope the bride. The hall was in chaos as Ned tried fruitlessly to bring some sort of order to the gathering.

"What the blazes ate you planning?" Jon didn't understand what she wanted but he recognised the determined look on her face and the jut of her chin.

"I'm taking control."

\---

Sansa stood on the table in naught but her shift inwardly amazed at her own daring. It was hardly the most maidenly of actions- if you had told her that she would end her wedding day stood on the Winterfell trestle table half-clad she would have recoiled in demure horror. Even Arya at her most bold and foolhardy would probably have thought twice. But needs must. She had to make a statement. She was going to be her own woman, no shrinking violet, she couldn't afford to be, not ruling and living with these people. They had to realise she would not be intimidated.

"Honoured Guests!" she raised her voice. The crowd were so startled by her unexpected action that they fell quiet. She chanced a look at her mother who was say with Alannys. Cat watched her daughter with a careful eye, but she was pleased to see a slight nod from her which gave her courage to go on.

"I thank you for joining us on our happy day, and making it special for us both."

The drunken crowd cheered, eager to celebrate more.

She waited until they quietened down and resumed her message. "Since I am now stripped of my finery, I would appreciate it greatly if I could reach my new bedchamber unmolested and ungroped. Would that be possible?"

She got down off the table, inwardly surprised at her own daring and feeling a little gratified that she had wrested a little control of the situation back from the horde. Someone behind her slapped her hard on the bottom, making her jump.

“Ouch!” she cried out smarting from the force of the smack.

“Could bounce a copper piece off that arse. Bloody gorgeous body she's got, and she's got gumption as well. You’re a damn lucky lad, Theon.” the man said throatily, evidently too drunk and lusty to notice how outrageous his behaviour was.

“That’s enough-” Jon stepped in, before someone took offence."Robb, Lord Renly, come on!"

The men moved into position flanking Sansa as she left the hall with head up and dignified gait to retreat to the bed chamber.

"Well, I'll be damned!" said one man half in admiration , half in disappointment at being thwarted of his fun. "The Stark lass has got her own honour guard!"

* * *

She could still hear the crowd outside, shouting coarse epithets and banging on the door as they followed up to the bedchamber. She breathed deep, finally able to get away from the men once the door had been bolted. They might still be outside but at least there was a barrier, however flimsy, to shut them out.

“Get some iron in her, son!” 

That definitely sounded like Dagmer. If she hadn't had been so nervous she would have laughed. _Well, if nothing else he's very outspoken!_

“Go on, put a kraken in her!” yelled one rough Ironborn voice accompanied by raucous grunts and echoes of laughter. 

“Do us proud, Theon, won't ye?”

“Hey, that's my sister you're bloody talking about in there thank you!” came Jon's indignant voice very clearly from behind the door. “Have some respect!”

Well, she certainly knew what was expected of her! She remembered Ros's lessons on pleasing Theon hoping she would not forget them when she needed them most. There was so much that she had to recollect. 

She hoped she wouldn't disappoint him, or he didn't approve of her bold move. Perhaps if he fell in love with her as she was he wouldn't want her to change too much. And yet change she would have to, in order to survive the rigours of their new home. _Gods, this isn't going to be easy. Give me strength to do this!_

He really looked at her, taking every feature of her in at his leisure as if they had all night and day, as if nothing else mattered but them.

She blushed, not sure of how to respond to his scrutiny. Gods, she wished they left her even a scrap of decent clothing to hide behind. Not just this flimsy shift of Myrish lace, little more than a sheen against her fine pale skin.

"My lord Theon?" She made herself meet his eyes and was heartened by his pleased lazy smile.

He undid the small blue bows down the front of the shift, his gaze following the path of his hands.

“God, you’re beautiful.” She heard him mutter under his breath, his eyes gazing hungrily at her body like a man starved. He made her feel like a wanton, the way that he looked at her, her dark pink nipples hardening and tingling under his gaze. It took all her strength of mind not to cover her bare breasts with her arms, to shield herself even though it’s too late for that now.

 _He’s my husband and my lord now,_ she told herself. He has every right to look.

She looked him right in the eye, gathering up all her courage as her arm fell to the sides and smiling at him in welcome. _I will do my duty, will not be found wanting. I am brave and a heroine._

_So why do I feel so scared?_

His mouth curved up into a smile, softer and gentler than his usual arrogant easy grin as if he understood her fears. The smile he gifts only to her.

“You tremble -are you afraid?”

Sansa blushed, her face growing hot. What was he going to think of her? Nothing but a foolish girl, who knew nothing about pleasing a man like him, not like that Roslin.

“I-I’ve never done anything like this before.” She stammered, her cheeks burning as she remembered the very detailed explicit conversation she'd had with Ros that evening she had sought his paramour out and asked for help in pleasing him. “-And everyone’s outside waiting-“

“Forget about them.” he murmured, kissing one pale shoulder and sliding the strap of her shift off. “Here in this chamber there is only you and me-“

She sighed at the press of kisses against her smooth skin. He was good at this, she would give him that.

“I’ll make it good for you, I promise. I won’t leave you wanting, sweetling-”

He lowered her back onto the bed, kissing her deeply, tasting her sweet mouth like fine honeyed ale and settling between her thighs before she even knew it. She could feel the weight of him on her hips, a strange unfamiliar pressure which makes her feel trapped but strangely safe. 

Her hands slid down his naked back, wrapping round his nape as he kissed her slow and leisurely as if he had all the time in the world, until she was arching and responding to him, despite her former fears.

“If you want we can just do this, like we did in the forest. Just a kiss, a few touches-“ he kissed her deep once more, sliding his tongue into her open willing mouth. “by the gods how I want to touch you-”

“And what about-” She fretted, “- no Theon, it’s going to have to be done. Tonight. So there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that I am yours.”

She was right of course. He knew that. But he had hoped that she would want to sleep with him out of inclination rather than duty.

“What are you planning to do?”

“Shush, Sansa-” he whispered pressing his fingertips where she was most slick and damp. She shook and trembled as she moved against his insistent fingers pressing firm circles that drove her mad with an answering want. “Trust me, my love. You do trust me, don't you? Here, where it's most important?” 

“Yes. I do.” she gasped, his touch inflaming her in ways she hadn't ever really experienced before just an echo of this pleasure when they'd kissed. No wonder he'd said they would have little trouble making a child. She was quickly learning that she wanted that clever knowing touch, finding places on her body that yielded pleasure, places she had no idea about until now. The backs of her knees, the crooks of her elbows , the insides of her soft thighs all waiting to give her pleasure and spark her own desire to match his.

“Later, we'll take all the time in the world, I promise you but right I want you so badly. Please, sweet girl-” he was so desperate for her, practically begging her to let him make love to her. 

Sansa slid her arms round him, welcoming him in. “Oh Theon, be gentle with me.” she sighed so softly that she was surprised he heard her plea at all.

Her answer was the fervent press of his mouth on hers.She felt him start to breach her, and the sharp sting of pain that told her she was no longer a maid. He heard her half stifled gasp and slowed. “Did I hurt you? Oh gods, you asked me to be gentle with you.”

They were so close now, she couldn't bear it if he came to a stop now. _Nearly there,_ she told herself. “No, keep going. I'm fine. I can take it.”

“You're sure?”

She dug her nails into the small of his back encouraging him to go on and finish it.

He kept still for a moment, giving her a moment to get used to the new intrusion, then he started moving with small rolling thrusts, deeper and deeper, until he was fully lodged inside her.

All of a sudden she needed something, anything more, She tried a small roll of her hips in response to him, mimicking his own.

“That's it, love. Now you've got it.”

His voice was becoming more and more ragged as he came close to losing his control. His hips continued to move against her more urgently in his excitement. Sansa tried to match his rhythm, partnering him in the intimate dance. It felt like a dance she didn't know the steps to just yet, but was eager to get right.

“Are you close?” he asked her breathlessly. “Don't know ...how long I can-”

His hips snapped against hers, making the bed creak loudly as he spent inside her, his eyes wide with awe and pleasure. He held her tightly afterwards, pressing grateful affectionate kisses anywhere he could reach, promising her that he was well pleased and it would only get better and more passionate with time.

* * *

The knock on the door startled Sansa who was just drifting off to sleep. Theon fumbled for his robe and padded towards the entrance to let in Lord Renly in his formal capacity as witness to their consummation and her father. There was no to no doubt about this union and it's legality. Everything was being done by the book and statutes of the realm.

“One trial more and we're done. You've done well,” Theon gave her a reassuring glance as she shrank a little under the covers. his hand reached for her under the furs and gave it a little reassuring squeeze."

Theon let Lord Renly in. He looked rather serious and stern, very much unlike the genial young lord who had befriended them before the wedding.

 _This is business,_ Sansa realised. _There is much at stake and he has to ascertain that we have done our duty, that there have been no mistakes. The Master of Laws, rather than their friend._

“Lord Theon Greyjoy, are you truly wed?" he said in a formal tone.

Theon knew exactly how to respond, both of them having been coached extensively by Renly in the run up to the wedding. "Aye my lord, I am, in truth.

"And you, Lady Sansa Greyjoy, are you truly wed?"

"Aye, my lord." her voice was miraculously steady as she met his eyes. "I am in truth."

What would happen now? Sansa was not sure. Would the Master of Laws demand some kind of proof? She cringed inwardly at the thought of her maidenhood being paraded in front of everyone to prove her purity. 

Renly's professional mask cracked for a moment. "This is always the most awkward bit." Observing him, she noticed that shorn of the official mask, he seemed rather ill-at-ease surrounded by the evidence of Theon's and her's bedchamber, though she knew not why.

Her fear got the better of her, for a moment. "You're not going to require physical proof?"

He shook his head, filling her with relief. Thank the Seven, he wouldn't put them through that! "Strictly speaking at this point the customs say yes. but since I'm lodged next door, I'll accept that as proof enough. Congratulations, both of you!" 

Ned's stern face broke into a relieved smile. _This whole business must have been so stressful for her parents,_ Sansa thought with grateful affection, _and yet he'd tried to give her a decent wedding and a husband who cared for her. How fortunate she was that he hadn't fallen prey to his ambitions, as many high-born lords would have and made her marry the Crown Prince despite his sin._

_I would not have been nearly as happy with Joffrey as I am now. I was afraid at the beginning, and upset at my fate but now I am happy, truly happy! Everything turned out for the best!_

"Thank you, Father." She said softly.

He looked at sadly, yet fondly knowing she would soon depart for the Isles. "My dear girl, no one could have asked any more of both of you. You've done us all proud. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Sansa-" he nodded to Theon, acknowledging him as part of the family now. "- and my good-son Theon."

* * *

The next day Theon awoke to find Sansa curled comfortably round him, her long legs tangled with his.

He still couldn’t believe that he was married to her, even after the ceremony and bedding. He half expected Lord Eddard and Robb to drag him from the bed, shouting at him that he should have known it was nothing more than a jest that had got out of hand. As if they would give their treasure to him!

Mine, my lady to love and protect. He thought with a surge of pride. He wondered if his father had ever felt this way about his mother, long ago.

He really couldn't imagine his father feeling so tender and gentle towards his new bride. 

Her face was buried in the pillow, hair pulled back into a loose plait to stop the worst of the tangles. The occasional soft snuffle and snore came from her. He couldn’t help but feel it was a bit endearing to be honest, it made her seem a bit more human.

“Morning, wife.” He said softly

Her eyes blinked open slowly, taking him in. She wrapped her arms round him, their lips coming together gently.

“How do you feel?” he asked, brushing a red-gold tendril from her forehead.

“Weary and a little sore.” She winced a little, unused to the unfamiliar ache in her muscles.

“I did try to be gentle.”

She nuzzled affectionately into his bare shoulder, enjoying the warmth and scent of his skin. "I know, I wasn't reprimanding you.”

“So you liked what I did to you last night.” he leant up besides her, his head propped up on his hand.

“Yes,” she said softly leaning forward to kiss him, “Yes, I did.”

It was strange and new and it would probably take some time to be getting used to that feeling of being so close and intimate with someone, to have him inside her, but she did enjoy it. It felt right, like she couldn't imagine doing anything like that with anyone else but him.

“I told you it's going to be good between us.” he said stroking her bare back.

“You did?” she said idly, still sleepy from their exertions during the night and the early morning. “When?”

He smiled at her lazily, “In the forest, where we first kissed, d'ye remember? That magic between us.”

“-and Jon and Robb caught us in the act and they were so angry with us!” she laid her head on his shoulder, smiling in remembrance. 

“Jon certainly was.” Theon remarked, the sting taken out of it. It was true that before she resented Jon Snow warning him off her, but he could be a gracious man and let bygones be bygones. Everything had worked out marvellously in the end. Making him wait had only made the love grow between them.

“Here I’ll soothe you.”

“How are you going to do that?”

He slid down between her thighs, gently easing them open. He gave her a naughty little smile kissing the soft pale flesh of her inside thigh over and over until she was trembling with the same desire she felt last night.

“What are you doing? You can’t. I - oh!”

The feel of his tongue against her shocked her into forgetting the rest of her sentence. What was he doing, surely this wasn't required to produce heirs for Pyke? It seemed too sinful, too wonderful, too much. Is this what they meant by the 'the pleasures of the marital bed? Gods, she'd been an utter innocent to know nothing of this. Her hands slid into his rumpled dark hair, keeping him close as he lingered on her.

They were interrupted by a vigorous banging on the door which seemed to get louder and louder. Theon rolled off and groaned. “For the love of everything holy, what?”

“Can't we just pretend we can't hear him?” She huffed breathlessly, still frustratingly close to that elusive peak of bliss.

Right now Theon could think of nothing better,just ignoring the world outside and staying in bed with her in their idyllic little retreat, Sansa so sweet and willing underneath him, but he knew his father's persistence of old. “Somehow I doubt that would work, sweetling.” he sighed. “I'll get the door.”

 ---

“You two lovebirds still abed?” Balon thundered from the other side of the door, making her jump and scramble out of his loving embrace.

How long had he been out there? He cringed at the thought that he might have heard them fooling around in bed, her sweet gentle sighs of pleasure as he’d buried his head in her lap. _Why should he feel bad about it? She was his wife. They were meant to be lovers- there was nothing wrong with it on the morn after their wedding. How else does he expect to get heirs?_

“Your father has the worst timing.” She groaned, rolling onto her back.

Theon was inclined to agree with her. “Tell me about it.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, “I’d better go and see what he wants, then. You know he’ll stay there grouching until we do-”

He got up from the bed padding to the door with only a sheet round him. She pulled the furs round her, trying to cover her nudity.

“Father?” Theon opened the door. Balon barged in, taking little notice of her naked curves hastily covered and her squeak of horror.

“Are you slugabeds still dallying?” Balon burst in glaring round at everything as if it had given offence. "-and the sun up and risen for hours?"

Renly stood behind him looking flustered and cross, his dark hair all in an unruly mess half-clothed with bleary eyes and a scowl.

“Honest to the Gods, your father does not know the meaning of the word 'privacy'. He er...gave me the fright of my life!”

Balon snorted. “Tis not my fault I walked when you were getting pleasured by that curly haired serving lass you hid under the bed. You should bolt yer door.”

Sansa started to frown, evidently about to say that they didn't have any maids with curly hair serving their wing of the castle, but a nudge from Theon stopped her.

“It's a wonder anyone got any sleep down this corridor with you lot rutting away.” Balon scowled.

“It is the morning after our wedding. You can forgive if we are a little tardy rising, Father?” Theon remarked with a wicked gleam Sansa had seen before, mostly when he was intent on causing trouble. Maester Luwin had certainly had ample cause to know that look over the years.

Balon eyed her in all her rumpled disorder. Sansa blushed violently at his scrutiny, only too aware that he knew what they had been up to..“So you tupped her well, did ye? Perhaps it’s just as well you can’t keep your hands off each other.” 

“What d'ye mean?” Theon cut in, before his father could embarrass and discomfit his Sansa any more. Her flushed embarrassed cheeks clashed with her fiery hair, which flowed down preserving some sort of modesty.

“You have visitors. Illustrious visitors. Time you both got up and dealt with them.” Balon grouched as he stomped off down the corridor. “Get ready to leave for home. We’ll not stay here long now the ceremony’s done.” He shouted over his shoulder. “I long to smell good honest sea air in my lungs and taste the salt on my lips afore long.These Greenlands agree with me not.”

* * *

For a moment the three of them were stunned by Balon's grudgingly given news. Things had progressed far swifter then anyone had imagined.

“Illustrious visitors? What does-” Sansa’s face drained pale as she suddenly realised who they might be. **_Queen Cersei. Joffrey. The court._**

“Seven, help me. Them here, already. They must have heard. What shall I do?”

“Joffrey and his mother. They heard about the wedding.” Renly's face was serious. “I did not think you would be tested so soon, but-”

“What do you suggest, ser?” She turned worried eyes on him seeking reassurance from him and her husband in their hour of need.“Will she not be displeased that we have thwarted her plans for me? She encouraged his suit from the start.”

“Aye, she will, but Robert proposed this match, and he will be with her as will the court. He will back you both here, as it suits his plans for you both.” Renly sounded confident and authoritative, but Theon was inclined to be cynical and not readily put his trust in the caprices of kings. After all, Robert had given her to him, he could so easily withdraw his support on a whim. And then where would they both be?

He could see the fear in her eyes and sought to reassure her, pulling her into a kiss. She clung to him her arms tight round him in desperation. He could feel her heart beating loud and furiously near his.

“You’re mine now. Wedded in sight of the Old Gods and the Seven. What ever happens they can’t touch you. You know that, don’t you?”he murmured in her ear, soothing her.

She nodded, though he noticed she still trembled in his arms. In all honesty, he didn't blame her.

“Say it with me.”

“Joffrey can’t touch me. I’m yours now-” If she said it enough times maybe she would believe it.

“Can I give you a bit of friendly advice?” Renly interposed.

“Of course, anything! You have been such a good friend to Theon and I, and I appreciate it Lord Renly, I really do.”

Renly's smile was positively scheming now. “You have to convince everyone in that worldly cynical court that you are both mad in love with each other and that you married for love. Your public vow last night was an excellent stroke and very well done, Theon. But now the stakes are dazzlingly high. Are you both prepared to play the game?”

Theon and Sansa caught each other's eye, resolving on their course of action. Renly was right. _What choice did they have?_


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei is pressed about the wedding, Joffrey inadvertently admits the truth and nearly causes an incident between the Isles and the Crown and Renly enjoys thwarting Cersei way too much.

They entered the Great Hall, hands clasped together ready to face whatever Cersei and Joffrey could throw at them.

He was pleased to see she was wearing the Harlaw opals, willingly lent for the occasion by Alannys, glowing round her pale throat on her fingers and at her ears. She looked elegant and womanly. Theon was incredibly proud to be with her. This was his wife, his Lady of the Isles, and he was proud to say that she looked the part. _Damn him, Renly was right, this situation required a bit of theatre. The question was: were they up to the challenge?_

Sansa sank into her most elegant curtsey, the dark-red spread of her silk skirts blossoming around her.

“Your Graces. We did not expect you.” She said in her most polite tone. Cat fidgeted anxiously, darting glances at the young couple. She subtly moved closer to Ned, giving silent support to him and presenting a united front against the queen and her evident displeasure.

The queen looked askance at the young couple and their clasped hands, her nostrils flared in annoyance.

“Sansa dear, how lovely to see you. I hear rumours of a happy occasion?” there was a falsely sweet ring to her voice as she spoke to her, green eyes narrowed. “Tell me this is not true?”

The hall fell silent, waiting to see what Sansa would do.

“That is right your Grace. I am wed.” She faced her bravely, clutching his hand so tightly Theon though the blood would stop flowing to the hand. He gave her a squeeze back, reassuring her he was at her side, no matter what. “You return at a most fortunate and happy time for both our houses.”

There was a flash in Cersei’s eye, just for a moment that was truly wicked. He was willing to swear she would have cut the girl for half a star. “Wed to who? This is rather sudden, is it not?”

“To Theon Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Isles.” there was no mistaking the love and pride in her clear voice. She raised his clasped hand to her lips, giving Theon an adoring glance.

There was a tense silence in the room as Cersei took in this development. Her fair face twisted bitterly, making her look quite ugly for a moment. The Ironborn were on edge, ready to plunge in. Hands were already straying to belts, finding concealed weapons. A threatening rumble filled the hall.

“Is this some kind of a sick jape?”the queen breathed in a soft dangerous voice which raised goosebumps on the forearms of every man there. She leant forward in her chair, hands gripping the arms of her seat so tightly it was a surprise she didn't break it.

 

“No, your Grace, not at all.” Theon addressed her. “My people have travelled all the way here to Winterfell to wish us all well on our happy day, and we shall return forthwith to the Isles to start anew.”

Asha stepped forward to back them up. Theon was a little surprised she would exert herself on his behalf all things considering. “Aye, my brother and his new bride are intent on returning home.” She smiled at them. “The Harlaw opals suit ye well, lass. Don't they, Mother?”

“Anyone can see he loves her true.” Alannys said, surprising more than a few. “We hope for more Greyjoys soon and the rebirth of our House. Sansa is our great hope.”

“So you all sing from the same ballad-sheet, do ye?” Cersei said through gritted teeth. “Well, we'll soon see about that! The king finally approaches!”

Cersei was destined to be disappointed as Robert supported the Starks and congratulated the bride and groom with enthusiasm.

“Congratulations!” Robert interposed with a broad smile. “Where are our newly-weds, eh?” he slapped Theon on the back heartily and greeted Ned as warmly as ever. “My friend, so your daughter is wed to Greyjoy?”

“Aye, your Grace.” Ned said.

"I see your lass and Greyjoy have grown fond of each other. I thank you for obeying me without question, and working to carry out my wishes. Could not ask for a loyaler vassal or friend."

“You knew about this?” Cersei turned to her husband who had a triumphant look on his ruddy face. She started to realise the extent of the plot against her own for the Stark heiress.

“Of course I did! Everything was done according to my will.”

 

“'Twas his idea after all, and besides all know that I live to serve his Grace.” Renly added. The king gave him a nod of approval for his efforts.

It was plain to see that Cersei wanted to protest more but since she didn't have much of a leg to stand on now that Robert had expressed his approval for the match. She subsided with an ill-grace, scowling at her defeat.

Joffrey was not so prepared to cede the day. “You were promised to me!” Joffrey was so furious with the way things were going that his face turned an unflattering shade of beet red. He took a hasty step towards Sansa, as if he had forgotten himself and was about to lay hands on her.

Theon stepped in front of her, a threatening look on his face but it was Sansa who spoke in sharp reproof. “Your Grace, have you forgotten yourself?”

Every member of the Iron-born party had risen to their feet, ready to defend their lady.

“Lady Stark, this is insanity. You can't mean to tell me you want this crook?” Joffrey appealed to her but she was unmoved.

“With all due respect, I am Lady Greyjoy now." She told him with a quiet dignity. "Besides, how could you ever expect me to marry you when you pushed my younger brother for defending me?"

There was a scandalised murmur at Sansa's statement. Many people did not know the details of why the royal betrothal had been dissolved in the first place.

Cersei rallied at that, bristling with indignation. "What are these ridiculous allegations? There is no proof my son was involved-"

"I didn't...it was an accident..." Joffrey started to gibber as his bad behaviour was exposed to all. "I lost my temper...I didn't think he'd fall..."

Ned was firm on the point."In the circumstances, you can understand why I agreed to the king's plan. My daughter's safety has always been paramount."

* * *

“How dare these people thwart me?” Joffrey raged as his father and uncle dragged him away from the scene before he caused further incident. He sulked all through dinner, until even Robert got sick of it and sent him back to his guest chambers

“The arrangement was cancelled. You know why.” Robert said most unsympathetically to his son.

“I still wanted her. I didn't mean to push Bran Stark! It was a misunderstanding-” Joffrey looked round him in baffled rage, unable to accept that Sansa had slipped from his grasp and she was now wed to someone else. Worse, that she seemed happy in her choice. Every time her eyes strayed adoringly to her new husband at dinner, accepting his caresses and loving glances, the prince looked as if he were about to burst with rage and bitterness. “Father, this cannot be happening! You allowed this pirate spawn, this thief to take my rightful bride to be?”

His father seemed to have little to no sympathy, clapping him on the shoulder with a meaty hand. He could see his uncle Renly smirking in the background, that smooth-tongued dandy bastard. He might have known he would be involved in this farce!

“' Tis done. You'll ne'er get her back by weeping and wailing. Give over and accept the new match like a man. “

“But-” Joffrey started to say.

“Come nephew, no one likes a sore loser.” said Renly, who was positively enjoying himself at his nephew's discomfiture. “Perhaps you might consider the consequences of your actions in future. There's not many high-born heiresses available who'll accept you now, you know.”

* * *

“You have to do something about this!” Cersei demanded as soon as she entered Lord Renly’s chamber.

Renly looked up at his sister in law with a mask of perfect politeness, ignoring her lack of manners and arrogant manner. He expected no less of her.

“About what?” he looked up from a scroll he was reading. “Is there something you wanted, good-sister? How pleasant it is to see you too, your Grace-”

She made a sour face as if hating to be reminded of their relationship to one another, starting to pace in her discontent. “This ridiculous union. What can Ned Stark and Robert be thinking of? Giving the girl to a brute like that? I wonder at Lord Stark’s insolence- and Robert’s naivete. The thought of him playing politics!”

_Ah, this was about the Stark girl and her sudden marriage. Robert had briefed him on the plan and how Cersei would react. Frankly he was going to take pleasure in thwarting her._

“What has Lord Stark done that’s so wrong?” he enquired.

“Do you not see it, Renly? She was promised to Joffrey, and then she goes and marries someone else behind our back. In secrecy while we were away so we could not object to it!”

He shrugged, not bothered by her rising voice.

“Did you see the bold-faced baggage stand before me? As brazen as you please? ‘I am wed to Theon Greyjoy’ if you please. Him pawing over her like a love-struck idiot!”

“I fail to see what the problem is.” He said in a mild tone of voice, idly playing with his ink-bottle and quill.

She was irritated beyond measure that he scarcely seemed to be taking any notice of her, just regarding her with that dismissive blue-eyed gaze that she despised in Robert and hated in his brothers just as much. _Gods, she hated him! She could barely even hide it, could she?_

“Lord Stark broke his contract.” Her voice rose, shrill and piercing. “Surely you can see that?” 

“I was to understand that it was a verbal contract, no more. No paperwork, nothing was signed. Marriage agreements fall through all the time. Perhaps Balon and Theon made Lord Stark a better offer-”

Cerei laughed at the thought. “With what? They have nothing!” she sneered, lip curled. “What did they give as the bride-price? Rocks and sea-water?”

“Whatever it was, it was enough for Lord Stark. Perhaps he realised that the lad was prepared to woo and love her. They are a most engaging couple and he thinks the world of the lass-”

“How would you bloody know?” she spat in irritation.

“Lord Greyjoy has become somewhat of a personal friend. He has quite the dry sense of humour, and many great ideas about improving life on the Isles for the better.”

“Will you stand by and allow your nephew to be so disrespected by these savages?” she placed her hands aggressively on the table, invading his personal space, her face twisted with rage at being thwarted.

“Joffrey brought this on himself. He tried to harm Lord Stark's younger son. Can you blame them for not wanting to be allied to such a boy? Legally Lord Stark is more than entitled to demand redress for the crime but my brother has managed to alleviate the situation without any further problems.”

Cersei paced, trying to come up with a solution to please her son. She made a noise of disgust and frustration at the back of her throat.

“It is unfortunate for the Prince, I admit, but the lass is wed. I really don’t see what you expect me to do?” he said in his most reasonable tone of voice, the one he knew for a fact infuriated her like no other.

“The union can still be dissolved. At least it all happened up north, so no one need know of her shame-” Cersei reasoned. “Joffrey is prepared to have her still, it was nothing more than a misunderstanding. They’re all over-reacting.”

_A ‘misunderstanding’ which had nearly resulted in the death or maiming of Bran Stark. He didn’t blame Ned for cancelling the contract and taking pains that the crown prince should never get his hands on her. Seeing the broken lad carried into the Great Hall brought it clearly home that the Starks were perfectly justified in taking the measures they had to safeguard their daughter._

“I thought the marriage had been consummated.” He interrupted. “-a bit difficult sweeping it under the carpet now, is it not?”

“So they claim.” She scoffed. “Greyjoy would say anything to get his own way, and Stark is hardly going to contradict him. It’s a plot-”

He cut in before she could vent any more of her paranoia. “As far as I can work out, wasn’t it Robert’s idea? How can it be treason if Lord Stark is merely obeying his Grace’s will? And when the crown prince is responsible for that accident?”

“So you refuse to help me, Lord Renly?”

He shrugged. “My hands are tied, Cersei. I can’t see what you expect me to do. It’s done. The lass told you true, she is wedded and bedded.”

“I have no idea why you are being so obstructive. You can annul this misalliance without turning a hair and yet you refuse! You are Master of Laws-”

Renly had had enough of her imperiousness. The woman was too much! It was time she was taken down a peg. “-and as Master of Laws, I am bound by the law.” he said raising his voice over hers. “The girl is wed, the couple married for love, there’s nothing you can do. It's done, Cersei. Leave it be, and be happy for the young couple-”

“Happy?” her voice rose, her fair face twisted as if she had been chewing a wasp.

“I won’t break the law to please you, good-sister. “ Renly took an unholy pleasure in saying.

She couldn’t believe that he was going to flout her so readily. She blinked in outrage, swelling in fury like an infuriated bullfrog. “But-” 

“Shut the door on your way out, won't you?” he said turning back to his scrolls.

* * *

Theon was heading back into the castle very discomfited by the arrival of the royal party. It was sheer luck that they were able to have the cloaking ceremony and the wedding yesterday without interference as he had no doubt that Queen Cersei and Joffrey had been present there was no way that they would have let the wedding take place. He’d seen the malicious flash in her cold green eyes as she talked in the Great Hall, realizing that her plans for his Sansa had been foiled.

Cersei glided noiselessly next to him, giving Theon a start. He hadn’t expected her to sneak up on him so readily.

“It’s Theon Greyjoy, isn’t it? May we talk in private?”

If he had his own way he wouldn’t have trusted her as far as he could throw her, not with that glint in her eye, but he had to at least pretend to be courteous to the queen.

She took his arm, gliding down the path in an elegant sweep of velvet skirts.

“Your Grace, how may I assist you?” he said, keeping his voice polite yet wary until she revealed her purpose.

“Why did you marry Sansa Stark?” she said, addressing the issue at hand bluntly. _She certainly doesn’t mince her words, does she?_

“She is a fair maid, that much is obvious. If I made a decent match, Lord Eddard would permit me to go home to the Isle. I would be a fool to pass that up.”

“- and with one step you leap from hostage to heir,” She gave him a sidelong smile. “You seem a worldly young man, so I trust you will take this proposal in the spirit it was intended by. If it were made worth your while, would you stand aside and allow your match to be annulled?”

Theon concealed his shock. _The underhanded bitch! Did she really believe that he was so devoid of honour that he would abandon his new wife on her say-so? That he could be bought so easily?_

“Why would I want that?” he asked, keeping his voice equally as cool.

“Come now-” she scoffed, throwing her head back. “-you can’t have had feelings for the girl for that long. Not so long ago, she was engaged to another.” There was no mistaking the naked threat in her voice.

There was no way he was standing aside for Joffrey’s benefit. It was hardly his fault that Sansa didn’t want him, Joffrey had lost her by his own foolish actions (he was under no illusions as to the fact he'd gained his chance due to the Crown Prince's viciousness and stupidity) and he was a sore loser.

“Perhaps I did. You don’t know that, your Grace.”

She rankled at his implication. “There are some that would call what you just said to be treason.”

“You can't blame a man for hoping and dreaming. If Prince Joffrey needs his mother to press his suit for him, then perhaps he isn’t the suitor he claims to be.” He jabbed, sensing a hit. “I wooed the girl fair and square, and I'm proud to say that by the time we wed, she and I married for love. How many high-born couples can say that in truth?”

_I bet the spoiled brat doesn’t even know she is intriguing on his behalf._

“You probably had her already, put a baby in her belly and now Ned Stark scrabbles to save his daughter’s reputation. Fancy him whoring out his pride and joy to a criminal and a pirate!”

Theon inwardly seethed at that cultured voice spitting out so much bile and poison. He felt sullied and dirty even listening to her. _Sansa doesn’t deserve this. I would never give her up, not to the likes of the prince and his mother._

“With all respect, she is my wife. I will not have you insult her.” he snapped, not caring if he insulted her. “Sansa came to me unsullied, and pure. In all our courting, we did nothing but exchange kisses on occasion. Everything was done above board and legally. In truth, Your Grace, you don't have a leg to stand on and you know it.”

“So you wish to persist in this foolery?” Cersei gritted out in frustration at her lack of success. “You refuse to do the right thing and give her up?”

He gave her his most provoking smile, the one he knew full well was bound to infuriate. 

“You heard what the Master of Laws said. We are married in the sight of the Gods, old and new. The marriage was consummated. There were witnesses, many of them.”

“Ah but they weren’t in the bedchamber, were they?”

“They could hear, your Grace. Lord Renly has the chamber next to ours. He was our witness-” he let that piece of information sink in. “You must understand, your Grace-” it was amazing how insulting he could make the title sound when he wanted to. “I married Lady Stark for love. I made a holy and sacred vow in front of my people and my new family – the Starks. That's not something I'm prepared to break.”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” she hissed.

“You heard my mother. She loves her new good-daughter and my people do too. Already they call her 'The Hope of the Isles'.” he smirked in triumph. “Why would we give that up?”

He could hear her grinding her teeth in frustration.“You’re a crook and a thief just like all your kin, and I promise you that you will not get away with this larceny.” She hissed. “Joffrey will have both your heads!”

“Well it’s just as well he isn’t king yet then. If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I have to get back to my wife and my family.”


End file.
